


Badgers' Den

by mutantsandmasterpieces



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Care of Magical Creatures, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Future Fic, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Hufflepuff Common Room, Hufflepuff Pride, Hufflepuff/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Original Character(s), Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutantsandmasterpieces/pseuds/mutantsandmasterpieces
Summary: We wanted to go back to the lighthearted fun of Hogwarts, but post-war. We're both puffs, so naturally we wanted more of them in the world.Join our Hufflepuff 5th years, their friends, and the occasional cameo by second gen canon characters.Just good, solid, magic fun.





	1. Midnight Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter 2019  
> Midterms call for a midnight pick-me-up.

Filbin Langley, 5th year Hufflepuff, ducked into the kitchens, giving the painted pear a quick tickle in just the right spot.

House elves bustled about, but it was so late they were really only focused on pastries for breakfast the next morning.

“Hey, anybody seen Chris?” he asked, catching a small elf with her short arms full of a bowl of currants.

“No, sir,” she squeaked, but looked toward the root cellar door. “But Miss Gwen is here asking about her too, sir!”

He let her go and dusted her off. “You could pass for a ghost, all covered in flour,” he said, smiling. “Go on, but she’ll be around soon.”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked, “we know, sir. We’re trying to be finished before she arrives, sir!” The elf scurried away and the others stirred faster, their eyes on the door in something like fear.

Filbin flicked his wand and a handful of dried apricots flew out of their bowl with a flourish, right into his hand on his way to the root cellar door.

Gwendolyn Connolly, also a 5th year Hufflepuff, sat on a high stool… with a puddle of water underneath her. “Hey!” she smiled. “Come sit!”

To most other people, her snowy white hair, light blue eyes, and smattering of prominent freckles across her nose were an unusual combination. Filbin, not so much, but he did eye the puddle under her with concern. “Not where you are. What’s up with this?”

She looked around and then grinned at him mischievously. “My assignment from Chris,” she whispered, then opened her long slick rain coat to show a large net of fresh wriggling shrimp sitting on her lap. “I got em from the lake! Want one? They’re scrummy!”

Filbin almost gagged. “Like alive?! No thanks.” He laughed and picked a very dry seat nearby. “That may fly with selkies, but most people prefer seafood cooked. Sushi’s one thing, but… well I’d cook any fish that came from that lake a good looooong time. Have you seen the scum in there?”

“It’s good for shrimps,” she said, opening the top of the net carefully and peeking in like a first year with a bag of everyflavor beans. “And clams, but Chris asked for shrimps.”

“Speak of the devil,” Filbin said, around an apricot. He pointed to the door.

Charisma Dobbs sent house elves scurrying for cover, so much so that she almost tripped on one of them and spun, keeping a careful grip on a burlap sack. “Whoa! Where’s the fire?”

Gwen held a shrimp she’d picked out, and pointed at her friend with it. “You! Seems like they all remember the last time we visited.”

“You mean the last time she visited,” Filbin corrected. “We weren’t around for the last experiment.”

Charisma waved her hand airily. “Nevermind. This will be much better than that. This is an actual recipe I had once, not an experiment.”

“Have you made it before?” Gwen asked, surprised enough she put her shrimp back without a nibble.

“Well,” Chris hesitated, waffling on her answer.

“Means no,” Filbin filled in. “So it IS an experiment, just less an experiment than her magic marzipan.”

Charisma scratched her head, her fingers buried in abundant curly blonde hair, and bumping her potions goggles she constantly wore on her head. “Still don’t know how that could have gone wrong. You guys were going to love it – it was a present. Or it would have been if it hadn’t come alive.” She shook her head and waved her free hand for silence before her friends could speak up. “No! No, this is different. Now,” she said, holding up the burlap bag by the neck. “Guess what’s in here!”

Gwen’s expression fell. “Oh, I don’t like guessing games…”

Filbin examined the bag closer and squinted. “Is that bag … smoking?”

Chris’ whole face lit up and she gripped the neck of the bag tighter. “No what’s IN the bag is smoking! Y’know how Bets was talking about their herbology lesson? With the” –

Gwen scrambled off her chair and backed up, clutching her shrimp net with her. “African Incendi Peppers!” she hissed, when Filbin looked at her in confusion.

He just grinned. “Hey! Did you steal em?”

“Borrowed,” Chris sniffed, offended. “It’s for a good cause. Besides, Professor Longbottom wasn’t in his office to ask properly.”

“Did you go during office hours?”

She avoided Filbin’s eyes. “No time. I only got the idea this afternoon. Besides, it’s so cold outside and with finals going on, this soup would be exactly what everybody needs! Gwen, did you get the shellfish?”

“Shrimps!” Gwen beamed proudly.

“Perfect! Come on. Filbin, grab that big pot over there. I put some stuff in it we’re gonna need.”

“Wait,” he said, though he already had his arms around the large stew pot. “We’re not cooking it here? Don’t we need the stove?”

Chris waved off the question. “Just be careful carrying that. There’s a bottomless vial of water in there. Break it and you’ll be swimming.”

Once through the barrels and down the stairs, Chris set up the pot half full with water on a round stone stool. She put on gloves and chopped up the Incendi Peppers, dropping them directly into the water. It immediately boiled.

Filbin looked in. “Sweet! Why didn’t we get a class on these when we were 3rd years?”

Gwen cleaned shrimp, taking the nasty bits out to make a tidy pile ready for the pot. “You wouldn’t if there wasn’t a bush in the greenhouse when you were a 3rd year.”

Chris pushed Filbin away from the pot. “Chop some carrots and potatoes.” She pulled her goggles down over her eyes. “It’s gonna start smelling spicy in here!”

Ingredients went into the pot, some magic, some not.

The smell drew other Hufflepuffs into the common room, the 7th and 5th years first as they were up anyway, stressing over their midterm tests.

“What did Chris put in it?”

“Don’t get too close, it might explode.”

“Phwah! It’s burning my nose! … when will it be ready?”

“You can’t be serious. Cooking in the commonroom? Probably one of Filbin’s charms.”

“Hey, look up the ingredients and we’ll count it for Potions study.”

The shrimp went in last. Once she threw the last one in, Chris grabbed up a Snow Mint leaf. She held it up to the light, snipped it in half, counted to 23, and dropped one half in the pot.

The boiling stopped instantly, but the steam swirling off the surface showed it was still nice and hot.

“Ha!” Chris beamed down at her creation, her goggles fogged up by the steam. “Just like I remember it! Hope it tastes as good.” She looked up, then around because she couldn’t see much, then pushed her goggles up. “Oh, that’s better.” She dug a ladle out of their supply pile from the kitchens. “Who wants a taste?”

Even Gwen and Filbin held back.

Filbin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Look, it’s fun and that was cool and all, but… well…”

Chris looked crestfallen. “… really?”

Gwen cleared her throat. “You did paralyze him with that batch of cupcakes that one time…”

“I said I was sorry! And I fixed the recipe in time for his birthday!”

Filbin nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, you did…”

Chris stood by her soup, literally and figuratively, reaching out to Gwen and then every other person in the room to get any takers.

A second year, her eyes still a little bleary from having been asleep, silently came in from the dormitory. She looked over the scene at a glance, and the whole commonroom hushed. She blinked once, smiled at Chris, and walked over, picking up a bowl from the optimistically large stack Chris brought along. “Your soup is delicious,” she said with absolute confidence.

Filbin immediately snatched up a bowl and took his place behind her. “If Elfie says it’s good, that’s good enough for me,” he shrugged. “Go on, then, fill ‘er up, Chris!”

A massive line formed, orderly and amiable, even before the second ladleful made it into Elfie’s bowl.

The second year took her spoon but didn’t wait to take a sip. “Oo!” she gasped and giggled. “Nice and warm. Thank you!”

Chris winked at her. “Have as much as you want! I owe you one.”

She stood to the side so Filbin and the others could get theirs. She blinked at her. “Why? You made the soup.” She wandered off to a seat, tucking herself in a massive overstuffed armchair next to a window all blocked out by a snowbank outside.

Several servings for everyone later, Chris sat back and Gwen flopped across her friends’ laps.

“I don’t say this often,” she mumbled, feeling awfully warm and cozy for it being nearly 4am, “but I think that recipe improved the shrimps.”

Filbin patted her head. “See? Come to the cooked side – we have Chris’ Incendi Soup!”

Chris giggled. “It has a real name, but I like that better. Incendi Soup. … Pity that won’t be on our midterms…”


	2. Toff's Prediction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts: Sometime during the 2019-2020 school year.
> 
> It's a bad day to be a Pisces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we mentioned in the last chapter, and in this one, that Gwen and Dwyer are selkies. We went with a difference between Irish and Scottish selkies, making Irish the ones closer to the traditional image - magical seal-like creatures that turn human when they shed their fur coats and come to land, wearing their seal skins as coats, and changing back in water.  
> We'll comment on it a bit more as we play with these characters, but just a heads-up there is a difference.

Gwen, Filbin, and Charisma surrounded their Ravenclaw classmate, each taking a look at his meticulously drawn star charts spread across the breakfast table.

Christopher McCauley, or Toff, pointed out the particularly concerning alignments for that day, waving Chris off from touching some of the still-wet ink. They all leaned over the charts while mail arrived, ducking as Chris’ owl came in for a landing on her shoulder.

“Hey Fluffy!” she beamed, happily taking the newspaper and bundled notes from his claw. “Whooooo’s a good boy?”

The big barn owl rubbed his head all over her face, getting partially tangled in her hair while hooting and clicking his beak happily.

Toff adjusted his glasses. “You really should tell him he’s not a cat.”

Chris gasped and covered one of his ears with her hand. “Shhh. Don’t listen to him, Fluffster. You’re fine. Hop down. Have a bit of ham, huh?”

Another owl, a burley beast belonging to a large newspaper squad, dropped a thick morning edition caught out of the air by Gwen’s twin brother Dwyer before it struck the table.

Filbin grinned and high-fived him. “Nice snag! Good you’re here. Toff’s got some bad news in the stars for you and Gwen.”

“Bad news?” the tall Griffindor laughed.

“Don’t he know we’re lucky, Gwen?” He sat down opposite them, breaking the twine binding the newspaper.

Gwen looked at her brother, who had short black hair to her long white locks, but matching freckles. “Don’t joke, Dwyer. Toff’s the best in the school when it comes to astrology. If he says today’s a bad luck day, it is!”

Toff turned the chart and leaned over to point out which ascension was causing the concern, but Dwyer pushed it away with his folded newspaper like flicking a cockroach off a rug. “Um. No. Sorry, mate, but I trust the professionals on this one.” He flipped open the paper with a snap and confidently read out the horoscope.

“Pisces,” he read. “Step lively, for opportunity is at every turn. Keep your eye on your dreams, and steer clear of numbers today. Today is a day for the abstract. Do something creative! Paint, draw, sculpt, anything but visit the bank or count sheep.” He gestured to the paper. “Straight from the Irish coast. The Fisherman’s Wife is never wrong.”

Toff raised an eyebrow, rolling his charts carefully. “What kind of paper calls itself The Fisherman’s Wife?”

“That’s not the paper, it’s the column. Old lady what does the horoscopes,” Dwyer sniffed, offended. “She’s a friend of our auntie’s, right Gwen?”

Gwen looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Dwy. I think Toff’s put more into it than Mrs. Tulley. And I don’t think she’s ever given a negative horoscope…”

“Cuz we’re lucky!”

Filbin grinned. “All the time? Sorry, but nobody’s lucky all the time.”

Dwyer, who usually got a kick out of being the other half of a dynamic duo with the Charms master, was less than amused. “What do you know? Selkies ARE lucky.”

Filbin leaned forward, still grinning confidently. “Maybe. To other people. Come on, how hard is it to believe you’re in for one bad day? Just one?”

Dwyer glanced at Gwen. “Come on. Tell them they’re wrong!” He paused, staring as Chris took off her goggles and put them on Gwen’s head. “Hey!”

Gwen looked at her brother blankly. “What? They’re lucky! I can use all the help I can get, from what Toff’s charts say.” She looked at him in concern. “You should see if Filbin can loan you one of his lucky coins?”

Dwyer grumbled, standing. “I’m not doing that! I’m not carrying something silly around just because some amateur chart says I should!”

Another newspaper’s owl squad swept low and a hefty copy of The Daily Prophet whacked into Dwyer’s head, end first, sending him sprawling onto the bench then the floor with a yelp.

The three at the table who saw it happen stared in shock and concern, but Filbin was laughing so hard his ribs hurt.

“Want that coin now, Dwy?!” he wheezed, holding his side.

Dwyer was up on his feet again, shaky, but still up. “No! Shuddup! It was a fluke! Just” –

-“bad luck?” Chris offered. She met his glare with a brief ear to ear grin.

-“an ACCIDENT,” he snorted. “And that could happen to anyone.” He straightened his robes and pushed his hair back into place. “Now. Just to show you you’re wrong, Laslow’s throwing dice for the chore pool.”

Gwen paled. “Dwyer, don’t. Just take your assignment this week.”

“I’ve never taken a prep assignment since we came here, and I’m not starting now.” He pulled a set of dice from his pocket and rattled them in his fist. “Watch me!”

Toff squirmed while they watched him cross the room to where the 6th year Griffindor was running the game out of sight of the professors’ table. “Oh dear.”

Filbin got up, taking a sausage roll to go.  
“You’re going to help him, right?” Gwen asked, getting up too.

“If he’s going to do something stupid and hurt himself, sure I’ll help him,” Filbin shrugged, munching the roll in a hurry to get over there. “But I don’t want to miss him crash and burn! If we get there quick, maybe he can lose and do our assignments too!”

Chris immediately packed stuff up and scrambled to join him. “Good idea! I’m supposed to help Matron this week…”

“Leech duty?” Toff asked, appalled.

She shuddered. “Yup. So, how does the game work again?”  
***

Dwyer hauled on the other players’ robes. “Come on! One more round!”

Laslow pried Dwyer’s hands off his robes. “Let it go, mate! You lost. And clear your nights this week, you’ll be all over the castle.”

He pulled away leaving Dwyer on the floor of the Hall.

Filbin patted his head. “There, there. Come on, up and at em or we’ll be late to class.”

Dwyer stood up and flung the dice. “Useless things!”

Filbin grinned. “Feel better?”

Dwyer just thumped out the doors. “Today is gonna be great!”

Toff almost dropped his charts. “Keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Sure,” Chris said, “we all will.”

“At a distance,” Gwen said sheepishly.

They all met up again for lunch, bundled up next to the lake.

Dwyer and Chris arrived after the others.

“Hey, Gwen!” Chris waved. “How are my goggles doing for you?”

“Good!” She was more focused on her brother, though. “Dwy… what happened to your robes?”

“Fashion statement,” he sniffed and grabbed up a sandwich from the basket.

“Not what I saw,” Filbin grinned.

Dwyer’s mouth was full, so his objections were muddled.

“Middle of charms, we’re working on color changing quills. Y’know, the fun kind that use normal ink, but you can get all creative with” –

Toff blinked. “It spilled on him?”

Dwyer glowered, chewing furiously.

“Even better!” Filbin stood up to act it out. “Professor Flitwick was demonstrating. Totally smooth, right? But he goes to change the color of the quill and it explodes!”

Chris cocked her head to the side. “But, that never happens to him… He’s got a really loyal wand…”

“The quill, Chris!” Filbin insisted. “It exploded JUST in Dwyer’s direction! Just kept pouring ink on him out of nowhere!”

Dwyer’s face set them giggling, though at first they did try to spare his feelings.

He finally got his mouth clear. “Total accident! If it was really bad luck, he wouldn’t have been able to get it off the rest of me. You could even say it was good luck the only thing I’ve got to replace are my robes!”

Toff just looked at Dwyer’s triumphant pointing finger, daring him to admit defeat. “I don’t make this stuff up. I just read the stars.” He shrugged.

Gwen shook her head. “Dwy, you’ve dug yourself a deep enough hole already. Just stick a rabbit’s foot in your pocket, or a coin, or something?”

Dwyer straightened up with as much dignity as he could muster in this slowly swirling rainbow splotched robe. “It’s out of principle! I won’t” – he paused. “What’s that noise?”

The others barely had time to hear it come.

As soon as the far away screaming reached them, so did its source.

A first year, a Gryffindor by the color of the streak, blasted by on a rogue training broom.

For a beat, they wondered what happened. Then they ran after it, now that Dwyer was scooped up on it, screaming too.

Later that evening, Toff went with the Hufflepuffs to visit Dwyer in the hospital wing. Along with dinner, they each had a handful of lucky charms in their bags.

Dwyer lay in a bed alongside the first year on the broom.

Gwen sat on her brother’s bed, setting out his favorite foods.

“How are you feeling?” Chris asked, sitting on an empty bed.

“Banged up. And colorful,” he nodded to his robe at the foot of the bed.

Filbin flipped his charmed luck coin, grinning. “Give up yet?”

Dwyer grumbled. “I gave up the second that broom dumped me from three meters up.” He looked over at the first year in the bed beside him. “Sucks to get the crazy broom, right?”

The boy nodded, then winced, a bandage around his head.

“Hey,” Chris said, looking from the boy to Toff and back. “If you don’t mind us asking, what’s your sign?”

The boy looked confused. “What? It’s Pisces, why?”

Filbin laughed. “Here. You’ll need this, at least for the rest of today!” He tossed the coin to the boy while Chris and Gwen emptied luck charms onto Dwyer in a heaping pile.


	3. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-20: First Quarter
> 
> Some people just like to see the world burn.

Julian Strange, 7th year Griffindor, stood up to leave his first class of the day. Transfiguration. First years came in next. He packed his bag, putting on a pair of gloves for the walk outside in the cold. Before he left, he checked the professor was distracted. He then took out a brand-new quill. Bending down, he placed it on the floor by his chair while he tied his shoe.

He straightened up, hefted his bag, and left.

The first years shuffled in and little Lily Potter set her bag on the table Strange just left. She paused and stared at the new quill on the floor.

“Everyone sit down, we have much to do and not a lot of time to do it,” the professor called while the young students scrambled to seats.

Lilly picked up the quill and pulled out a fresh scrap of parchment, carefully unscrewing the top of her ink well as class began.

***

Filbin pocketed the lightly used quill a day later, after using it to correct a year 4 Gryffindor’s charms homework. He didn’t wave her down to give it back on account of her being in a ridiculously foul mood.

“Camilla isn’t like that,” he said, frowning.

“Maybe she had a bad time in class or something?” Gwen suggested. “No one can be bright and cheery all the time.”

“She didn’t have to be like that to me,” Filbin grumbled, rummaging through his bags. “Where’s that bloody book?! I had it just now!”

Gwen looked at him cautiously, pushing the offending book toward him across the table, keeping her distance. “Deep breath, Filbin. Let it go?”

“Why does everybody just let everything go when people have no right to be mean for no reason?” He snatched the book back. “Seems like all of Gryffindor was in a bad mood yesterday, why can’t I be?”

Gwen was quiet, but after a moment – and after Filbin moved on to trimming the quill – said, “Because that’s not you?”

His finger slipped. He cut his thumb, swore more harshly than Gwen had ever heard, and threw both the pen knife and quill to the floor.

She hesitated before offering help. “Need a bandage?”

He looked at her apologetically. “Sorry… I just lost it there for a second… Yeah, I’d appreciate it.”

Gwen brightened up and helped him clean up his thumb. “It’s okay. It happens.” Once he was bandaged up, she put the quill in the cup with other spares and gave Filbin back his knife.

Chris pulled a handful of spare quills from the cup on her way out to classes the next morning.

“Do you really need that many?” Bets asked. Elizabeth McCauley, though a second year, spent a lot of time with the 5th years. Her brother Toff, was in Ravenclaw, and any friend of his was a friend of hers. “I mean, it’s fine, just what does a person need with five quills?”

“You’d be amazed how many people forget theirs,” Chris shrugged. “They could break anytime, you know. I keep a spare pen knife on me too, just for those moments when you walk down the hall and hear someone saying they didn’t have theirs.” She smiled. “You got all yours for today?”

Bets looked at the half empty spare can. “Yeah, I’m good. But can I take a couple in case Toff loses his? He goes through quills like crazy.”

Chris dug in her bag and gave her two from the back up stock she just took. “There, now there will be plenty for anyone else. See you tonight!”

Bets held her bag open so Chris could put them in, closed her bag, and patted it happily. “Thanks! See you!”

***

Chris, Gwen, and Filbin were just arriving for Potions. Though in the dungeons, the room was kept immaculately clean and brightly lit, with sunlamps like the ones in the Hufflepuff common room and dorms.

This was fitting since Professor Baldric Brasher, potions master, was also head of Hufflepuff house.

He was a tall man, a student of both Hogwarts and Uagadou, and always impeccably dressed in slim-cut suits with his hair shaved short – a new design on the side every day.

He only wore robes for school events, believing them to be a fire hazard, especially in his classroom. As his students didn’t have that option, he charmed their robes to be flame retardant at the start of each lesson, at least for those who couldn’t do it for themselves.

“Langley,” he said, in the middle of collecting homework, “will you see to Miss Dobbs? We need a flame resistant spell, not another accidental hot foot.”

While Filbin helped his less adept classmate, the door suddenly banged open, setting the thousands of meticulously labeled bottles and jars rattling.

The defense against the dark arts professor, Fiachra McNiel, stood in the doorway with Hagrid’s mastiff, Bull, and a Laelaps dog, looking every bit a Scotsman on the hunt. “Go on, beauties! Sniff the blighter out!”

Professor Brasher crossed the distance between them in two determined steps. “How dare you interrupt my class?!” he hissed. “You nearly shattered the whole ingredient stock! Do you realize how much damage that would have caused?!”

McNeil was a large enough man that he rattled windows when he was in a hurry, and he could snap the potions master like a twig if the whim took him, but the look on his face showed no malice. In fact, it was sincere concern.

“I do apologize,” he said, while the two dogs snuffled their way around the room. “I heard tell there’s a hexed object loose in the castle. Got to find it and stop the damage.”

Brasher frowned. “Hexed? Well, search away. Just don’t knock anything over.” He turned to the 5th years. “Everyone, set your bags on the floor. Open them for inspection. There’s a hexed object in the school, and we need it found.”

The Hufflepuffs knew the long and lean magical dog. Copper, the Laelaps, belonged to one of the transfer students from Ilvermorny. Normally the magical hound, whose breed never failed to catch its quarry, preferred to take up a whole couch in the warm Hufflepuff common room and accept pats and treats all day.

She went straight to Chris who slipped the dog a cheese flavored crisp from her bag.

“That’s all, girl,” she whispered. “Go on, go find the bad guys!”

Copper, who had a special fondness for all things cheese, sat back on her haunches and pawed the air in her best begging performance.

The whole class cooed at the cuteness.

“Confound it, y’lazy beast!” McNeil grumbled. “You’re after dark magic, not treaties!”

Brasher, who spent a generous amount of time in the Hufflepuff common room tutoring his students, was no stranger to the lazy dog. He stepped calmly next to Copper. “There’s no need to get mad and miss an opportunity for motivation.” He glanced at the dog. “Copper. Find the hex, and we’ll get you a whole bag of crisps.”

The laelaps stood up, blinked once, and her eyes glowed white. She threw her head back and her howl sent shivers through everyone who heard it. In a bound, she was at the door and dragging McNeil and Bull along behind her at full tilt.

Brasher straightened his tie. “Now then, get out your books, please, and set up your stations. Don’t forget the charms if you haven’t finished.”

***

Copper bounded ahead until McNeil had to let go of her lead to spare himself and Bull a chance to catch their breath.

The laelaps took off down the corridors, baying the whole way.

She finally stopped on the main level, cornering Dwyer and a Slytherin 5th year, Etienne.

When McNeil and Bull caught up, the two were arguing fiercely.

“Just give me back the quill!” Etienne yelled.

“No! It’s mine! You’ve got dozens! Why are you picking on me?!”

“I’m not picking on you!” she snapped back, pointing to the magic beast snarling at his hand holding the quill. “Something is wrong with it! Can’t you see what it’s doing to you?”

McNeil beamed triumphantly. “Smart lass!” he glared at Dwyer. “Connolly!”

Dwyer looked at him, appalled one of his favorite professors wasn’t taking his side.

“Drop the quill, m’boy. It’s hexed.”

He did, then flushed red with embarrassment. “Oh god…”

Etienne folded her arms, looking him up and down. “Yeah. You were an idiot. Still are, but now you’re just the normal dumb idiot, not a hexed idiot.”

Copper glowed until McNeil got a glove on and retrieved the quill, putting it in a bag. Then the dog bounced around, attempting to lick the Scotsman’s face.

“Git down, y’spring-loaded pup,” he held her collar. “You’ve done good, real good. Treaties on your Uncle McNeil!” He beckoned to Dwyer. “Come on, boy. Looks like you need a refresher on spotting hexes and reversing them.”

When Dwyer fell in step with him, McNeil cuffed him upside the head. “I’ve a mind to take points away for an embarrassment like that. And in front of a lass too!”


	4. Birthday party in Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020; First Hogsmeade Trip, September 2019
> 
> Fish-friendly.

Just a couple of weeks after the start of the year, every House was buzzing before the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Plans were afoot in Hufflepuff house.

Elfleda, still a second year, hugged Bets McCaulley, Toff’s younger sister. “Have fun, okay? Bring me something back? Something nice? Maybe something tasty?”

Bets gave her younger friend a warm squish. “Of course! We’ll be going to all the shops.”

Filbin, ready early, got an arm around each of the girls. “Clear on the plan, Bets?”

She nodded. “Keep Chris distracted shopping for Fish’s birthday with Toff while you guys get everything ready for her surprise party at the Three Broomsticks!” She blinked thoughtfully. “It’s probably a good thing Fish doesn’t like trains… or he’d come too and it’d have to be a double birthday.”

Elfie blinked. “Double birthday? Are those harder to plan than a single birthday?”

Filbin waved off the concern. “Fish doesn’t like a lot of things. He’s afraid of milk. We’re fine. He’s not going anywhere, especially now Toff loaned him that muggle book. He’ll be happy as a clam for a week. Now! What do we say if Chris asks what I’m doing with Dwyer and Gwen?”

“I’m supposed to say you’re showing them around because they don’t know Fish yet and they wouldn’t be helpful at all in shopping for his birthday,” Bets recited.

Filbin beamed. “Way to go, Bets! Toff will show you all the best places. I made him promise you won’t miss out on your first trip.” He patted Elfie’s head too. “And your turn will be next. Did Durmstrang have any places for weekend trips?”

Elfie shrugged. “I was only there my first year, but it didn’t sound good at all. They only did winter trips when the ice train ran into Schonbeck over the bay to see Quidditch and dueling tournaments. I heard the beer was good…?”

“Hogsmeade is better,” Filbin assured her. “I’ll bring you back something nice, okay?”

Elfie giggled, pleased. “Yay presents!”

***

Chris did want to help, and tried to explain Fish to the Selkie twins. “He’s… well, he’s a Ravenclaw. Over analyzes things.”

“Everything,” Toff corrected. “He’s a good guy, just really really” –

“He’s careful,” Bets supplied. “He likes to point out how much more dangerous life is with magic in it. Seems to think muggles have it safer. He knows a lot of interesting stuff about them! Hasn’t he got a signed copy of The Muggle Mystery?”

Toff nodded. “Yup. Got it signed by Arthur Weasley himself. Stood in line for hours at Flourish and Blotts when it came out. Even bought two copies, one to get signed and the other to actually read.”

“Sounds like a nerd,” Dwyer said.

Gwen shoved his arm for being rude, but the rattling of the train car did more to move him than her shove. “That’s not nice!”

“Oh, he’s a nerd,” Chris agreed, “but that doesn’t mean he’s not a good friend. He helped me learn to hunt magic herbs when my folks still thought I was a squib!” She smiled at Toff. “I’m glad to help shop for him.”

Gwen looked appropriately disappointed, though she and Dwyer knew the birthday plan perfectly. “Still… I kind of hoped we’d go on our first Hogsmeade trip together.”

Chris was touched. “Aw. Next time, for sure.”

The train pulled in and the kids poured out. Filbin and the Selkies went one direction, and Chris followed the McCaulleys in another.

Both Chris and Bets looked around wide-eyed before grabbing Toff and sprinting toward the shops.

Filbin and the selkies hung back. “Okay! Good. Come on, The Three Broomsticks is this way. We ought to make sure the stuff is all ready for later.”

Gwen skipped with a giggle, her long white hair in a thick braid that swung back and forth with her steps. “This is gonna be great!”

***

Chris and Bets made a straight line to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ wildly popular branch in the small school town.

Toff, not one for buying frivolous things, followed them around as they browsed the incredibly colorful selections. “This really isn’t Fish’s style,” he said, jostling with the thick crowd of Griffindor students clogging the aisles, most of them with red hair. “He tests everything before he puts it in his mouth… And he’d be terrified of getting caught using anything like this.” He did pause to look at the classic Skiving Snackboxes, though more with disdain than interest. “Why would you even want to skip class?”

“Maybe for another day to study?” Chris suggested, eagerly looking over the ingredient list on some voice-changing candies.

Bets suddenly ran up and grabbed both their arms. “Come on! Come over here! Look look look!”

They pushed their way back toward the door, stepping inside a charmed circle on the floor that muted the chaotic noise inside the shop.

Toff slowly smiled. “Now this is Fish-friendly…”

Chris looked over the items, all packaged in soothing shades of blue. “Silent Sparklers… Trigger Talismans… I dunno, aren’t these for serious problems?”

Bets took a Care Candy variety box off the shelf, a blue version of the Skiving Snackbox. “You don’t have to have something terrible happen to be uncomfortable or panic about things,” she said calmly. “I think Fish will love these.”

Toff nodded agreement. “And it’s not like they’re medicinal. They’re just to make life a little easier.”

Bets held the box reverently. “I’m getting this for him. It’s perfect. You guys want to check anything else out here?”

Chris shook her head. “Maybe later. I want to get him something, but I don’t even know what shops are here, let alone what in them could be right…”

“Don’t worry,” Toff replied. “They’ve got a used bookstore here too that I know has stuff he wants, and it’s nearly on the other end of town. We’ll see everything on the way.”

While the Fish party made their way down the street with an eye out for promising window displays, Filbin and the Selkies were just leaving the Three Broomsticks, Dwyer grumbling about them not being there long enough to taste anything.

“We’ll get back here later and down as many butterbeers as you can buy,” Filbin assured him. “Plus cake! Who doesn’t love cake?”

Gwen paled and yanked on their sleeves. “Chris is in the street! Come on!”

Filbin let her, but Dwyer fought a bit… while still letting her pull them out of sight. “Why? She knows we’re here?”

“She can’t know we’ve been in there without her! She’ll be crushed!” Gwen had pulled them behind some empty barrels at the side of the building and now she peeked out from between them to be sure their friends didn’t see them. “Okay, she’s gone.” Gwen looked at Filbin. “So, where now?”

“Decorations! Better hit Weasleys’ for the best ones. This way!”

***

Bets stopped to get some snacks from a street vendor – there were several set up at different points around the street.

“They’re not around all the time,” Toff explained. “Around here, Hogwarts weekends are a massive deal. Lots of places send carts up just to get some gold off the students. Suggestion – if you don’t recognize the name on the cart, don’t buy it. There was a guy up here last year running a cart selling roasted chestnuts that turned into stones once they cooled off enough to eat.” He made a face. “Not even a good spell, yknow?”

Bets stared in concern. “Did anybody eat them?! Were they hurt?!”

Toff shook his head. “No, no one was hurt. Just swindled. A couple third years ate them, but they were fixed up just fine once they got back to the school.”

“Yick!” Chris gagged. “They probably had to down a doozy of a digestive potion… can you imagine what it’d take to dissolve chestnut sized stones? Even small ones?”

“Serves them right,” Toff said. “It’s a lesson learned. Here’s the book shop.”

They went in, instantly lowering their voices to fit the hushed feel of the mostly empty shop.

“Guess nobody wants to be looking at books on holiday from school,” Bets said. “Except you,” she said, when her brother shot her a withering look.

“Used books are often better for research than new,” he said, heading between the haphazardly leaning stacks of books toward a crooked sign reading “history”.

While Chris went with him, Bets took a turn another direction toward the potions section. While they were shopping for Fish, she still wanted to get Chris something. She traced the faded titles looking for something on unusual, and edible, magic ingredients.

“So what’s Fish into these days?” Chris asked, wishing there were bookcases to lean against. Instead, the books were in neat, albeit leaning, towers up to the ceiling.

“Muggle stuff, as always,” Toff replied, “but he and Ashe spent this summer compiling a list of facts about famous witches and wizards to submit to the Chocolate Frog Card contest, especially ones from way back. They’ve even got five new ones they’re hoping to get in circulation. Come on, help me find something that sounds… Fishy?”

They’d looked at dozens of promising titles and were thinning down the handful of front-runners when Bets rejoined them, having already paid for her pick. “Found the perfect one yet?”

Chris put back another they’d decided wasn’t perfect. “Lots of good stuff, but Toff’s got a better idea what he’s looking for.” While Toff considered two tattered volumes, each thick as his arm, Chris looked at Bets kind of sadly. “Y’know, I still don’t know what to get him… I didn’t see any shops that really said Fish…”

“I’m sorry,” Bets replied, troubled. “Do you want to double with my gift, or Toff’s?”

Chris shook her head. “No, no. That wouldn’t feel right. Thanks, though. I really want to get him something that gets him all excited… that he can use and open up and really light him up…”

“He only gets that way about muggle stuff,” Bets said. “We got him a rubber duck once, just because we saw it on a cart while on holiday and wanted to see his face. He got so excited he nearly hyperventilated…”

Toff set one of the books down, reconsidered and swapped them, huffed in frustration and switched them again. “There’s a muggle junk shop somewhere in town,” he said, his focus on the incredibly hard choice between the two books. “I’ve never been in it, but we could poke our heads in there. There’s also a sweets shop that might have something. Bets, what time is it?”

She checked a dusty (but functional) clock hung not on the wall, but on the stack of books leaning against the wall. “Oh. It’s plenty time for a late lunch. I’m hungry. What about you, Chris?”

“Starved, but I don’t want to go get something until I’ve found Fish’s gift.”

Bets nodded. “Yeah. And I promised to bring Elfie something from the sweets shop. We can finish up on the way to lunch.”

Toff ended up taking both books up to the counter on their way out. “We’ll find something. Don’t worry.”

***

Filbin greeted classmates as they poured into the pub for the party. “Go on, up the stairs to the right. Thanks for coming! Yeah, get up there and find a good hiding spot if you can, and a bad one if you can’t. They should be along any minute. And leave the food until they get here, okay? You can’t yell surprise if your mouth is full, can you?”

Dwyer and Gwen guarded the door from the inside, letting Filbin in last only after he gave the special knock.

“She here?” Gwen asked, snapping the door shut behind him.

“I heard them come in on my way up the stairs,” Filbin grinned, jostling with some giddy 3rd years hiding behind some chairs with a handful of fizzers, ready to let them loose for the surprise. “Shhhhh! Everybody, sh! They’ll be up in just a minute!”

The whole room, packed almost to the rafters with their friends, fell silent, quieter than many of them had ever been in their life.

Toff and Bets’ voices carried up the stairwell, growing louder.

“You picked a great one, Chris,” Bets said. “He’s gonna love it!”

“I don’t get it. But I usually don’t,” Toff sighed.

“Why are we going upstairs? There was plenty of room down there for us.”

Gwen giggled, and Dwyer clapped a hand over his sister’s mouth so she wouldn’t ruin the surprise.

“I don’t know,” Toff lied. “That’s just where Filbin told us to meet him for lunch.” The knock sounded on the door.

Filbin gave his wand a flick and the door unlocked for them. He held up his fingers in the semi-darkness, counting down from three.

“Well this can’t be the right room,” Chris sniffed. “It’s all dark and” –

She and Bets reflexively covered their ears, but not soon enough to block out the roar of greetings and popping of fireworks, everyone jumping up as the fizzers whirred along the floor like sputtering fire mice.

Eventually the number of birthday wishes clued Chris in that this was for her. She flushed bright red and grinned so hard her face hurt. “OH! OH OH! OH you guys, you’re amazing! And SNEAKY!” She hugged them fiercely, pounding their backs and laughing in their ears, making the rounds of the room with unbridled enthusiasm.

“This is the best birthday I ever had! And it hasn’t even started yet!”

***

After the train back from Hogsmeade dropped the revelers back at the school, Chris, Filbin, Toff, and Bets brought the Selkies with them to the mostly empty great hall, over by one of the large fire places.

Jerome Fish and Zaeden Ashe, both 5th year Ravenclaws, sat with books spread out in the warmth, only one of several scattered study pairs throughout the hall. Fish looked downright tame, which he was, compared to Ashe whose multiple piercings, cattish green eyes, and trendy haircut usually drew all the attention available.

Ashe looked up when the Hufflepuffs (and Dwyer) came in, gave them a subtle thumbs-up and dug something out of his bag. “Hey, Fish? Isn’t it your birthday?”

Fish didn’t look up from his book. “Yeah, this week. Why?”

Ashe set a snack cake in front of his friend on the book. “Cuz we’re gonna celebrate!”

Fish stared at him, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

“Well not in any crazy way,” Ashe laughed. “But it’s worth celebrating! Hope you don’t mind we put a little something together?”

Fish fumbled and flustered a little as their friends sat down, setting out their gifts in bright wrappings. “What? I mean… Wow! You guys did all this?”

“Sure, we did!” Toff said, beaming while the small group sat close around.

“I know you’ve got a lot to do,” Chris said kindly, “but I hope you’ll find a few minutes for gifts?”

Fish adored the books, and offered Toff the appropriately Ravenclaw offer to share after his right of first read. He was also particularly touched by the Calming Candy box. He gave Bets a big hug for that, letting her sit close to him while unwrapping Chris’ gift.

“It’s not booby trapped, is it?” he asked Bets, being careful of the wrapping.

Bets giggled. “No, we wouldn’t do that to you. Go on, though, we want to see what you think!”

Chris hooked her arm in Gwen’s. “I can’t take the suspense!”

Fish pulled out the box with gawdy colors and a name blazoned across the cardboard. Recognition was followed closely by bubbling over enthusiasm. “YOU FOUND A SNUGGIE! OH MY GOD! ASHE! TOFF! THIS WAS THE THING I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT! THE BLANKET WITH SLEEVES!”

Ashe looked at it. “You mean… the backwards robe?”

“No, it’s totally different!” Fish insisted, scrambling to get it out of the package. “Chris this is amazing! It’s just- just perfect!” He threw it on himself, not caring at all that the only Snuggie in the muggle junk shop was a glaring neon pink.

  
Chris and the others laughed, just glad to see him not worried about anything, even just for a moment. “Happy birthday, Fish!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety sucks. That's why we're so warm to that awesome headcannon of George developing a line of products for PTSD, panic attacks, and other anxiety disorders. That bit isn't ours, but we couldn't resist using it.


	5. Monster in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Hogwarts 2019-2020; October
> 
> Big blue chicken that misses his mommy...

Chris, Filbin, and Gwen walked with two of the Ilvermorny transfer students to the front of the school.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” Gwen asked unhappily.

The Drake twins were the most colorful of the transfer students enjoying their last year of education abroad at Hogwarts. Magenta, Gen for short, was sorted into Hufflepuff, but her twin Lavender, or Ven, was sorted into Slytherin. Their family ran one of the best international magical creature refuges in the world, though Gen was pointedly more invested in the family business. Her Laelaps dog was a veritable fixture of the Hufflepuff common room and a great favorite with the younger students.

The dog, Copper, now walked alongside Gen and Ven on the way to meet Hagrid outside.

“Don’t worry,” Ven assured them. “Gen’ll be back in no time with a great surprise for everybody. Really spice up Care of Magical Creatures, too!”

“Good!” Filbin said. “I’m tired of fussing with bloopies. Damn things hate me.”

Gen giggled. “Extremely profitable creature to know about, though. Mr. Hagrid is doing everybody a favor including them. But they’re not nearly as exciting as what dad’s sent over. We’ll be back as soon as we pick them up. They just don’t travel well by magic, so we have to take the long way.”

Chris lowered her voice. “Can’t you tell us what it is? I mean… We won’t tell anyone?”

Gen pantomimed zipping her lips closed. “Sorry. It’d ruin the surprise!”

Hagrid, greying and looming large in the driver’s seat of a massive muggle-looking trailer truck, lay on the horn a couple times.

“Come along, missy! Don’t wanna keep yer daddy waitin’. We’re late leavin’ as it is!” He leaned forward to grin at the Hufflepuffs, particularly Gwen for whom he had a particular soft spot… seeing as she and her brother were magical creatures themselves. “Don’t you worry yerselves, we’ll be back in two shakes of a bloopie’s tail!”

Filbin made a face, but Chris waved while Gen and Copper hopped in the cab. “Be safe! See you soon! You’ll let us see first, right?!”

Hagrid just waved. No promises there. The truck lurched and groaned, trundling up the cart path away from the school.

Gwen looked at Ven. “Well… can’t you tell us?”

Ven was hard-pressed to keep the 5th years off her back, until she started telling monstrous lies which finally made the topic much less appealing.

That night, 2nd year Elfleda wasn’t in her bed.

Filbin and the others met up in the common room after searching the whole house. “She’s not even in the kitchens,” he said, after the girls finished their report of checking the dorms. “You know she likes to give the elves riddles… God, where could she be?”

Gwen wrung the sash of her robe. “Should we tell Professor Brasher?”

Chris didn’t like it, but she was worried. “Yeah, we probably should. But Bets had that idea already, so she might be doing just that.”

They heard the door shift open and voices in the stairway coming into the common room.

They hurried over to see if it was Elfie, but it was Bets, closely followed by Professor Brasher in his housecoat.

He looked over their worried faces and beckoned. “Elizabeth, you stay here. The rest of you, get some shoes on. I have an idea where she’ll be, but I could use the help. Hurry now, quickly!”

They followed him through the darkened corridors toward the exit. “You think she left the castle?”

Gwen stuck close behind Filbin whose wand shone brighter than hers. “I didn’t think she liked the dark…”

Brasher waved his hand for silence. “I don’t think she left after dark,” he said with firm calm. “More than likely she left during dinner. She’s got a soft spot for animals, like a lot of more tender souls… I suspect she’s out at Hagrid’s hut with Bull. I just hope she’s stayed there. Come along, the path is well-marked.”

They made it to the doors and Brasher held it open for them. Just as he closed it, a grating call like a trumpet full of gravel blasted over the grounds. They froze in their tracks.

Filbin got up a voice first of the students. “What was that?!”

They all looked at Brasher who shushed them immediately, listening in case whatever it was called again. After a few tense moments of silence, he hurried them along toward the hut. “Sounded like it came from the forest. There’s quite a lot going on out there, you know. Just goes to show you shouldn’t go in there.”

“Don’t you know what it was?” Chris pressed, pale in the wandlight. The new moon left the grounds forbiddingly dark with only limited starlight.

He shook his head. “One doesn’t have to know everything to work here, you know. Hagrid would, but he isn’t here, is he? It’s probably nothing. Things in the forest generally stay there, for everyone's safety including their own. There’s the gardens. Quickly, it’s cold out here.”

Chris, being the shortest of the bunch, had to take three steps for every two of the Professor’s, and she scampered quickly alongside her taller friends as they hurried through the pumpkin patch. “Whoa…!” she stopped and caught Filbin’s sleeve. “Look! What did that?!”

Brasher turned his wand to join Filbin’s in shedding some light on the massive ravaged pumpkin shell, showing sharp cuts in the several-centimeter-thick hide and flesh. The damage had to be fresh. A bit of the seeds and guts swung back and forth creating stringy shadows.

“Probably something got hungry,” Brasher pointed out, hurrying them along. “We lose quite a lot of produce that way.”

The animal call again froze them, especially as it came from the opposite side of the pumpkin patch only a few meters away… but the sound was retreating toward the extra-dark tree outline that was the forest.

Brasher held them still until the grounds were silent again.

“Come on,” he said, nodding at the dim light within Hagrid’s hut. “Looks like we’re not the first here. Let’s hope that’s Elfie.”

The door was unlocked. They peeked in to see Elfie curled up with Bull by the dwindling fire, sound asleep. The dog, however, lifted his head and thumped his tail.

Brasher relaxed and smiled a little. “See? Safe and sound.”

The others were massively relieved. “Just like her, innit?”

“Should we take her back? It’s going to get really cold.”

“Good thing the monster didn’t get her!”

Brasher scooped up the sleeping 2nd year and wrapped her in a blanket for the walk back. Elfie mumbled a little but didn’t stir. “There are no such things as monsters,” he said patiently, “just animals you’ve never learned about before. Miss Connolly, see that fire is put out properly. Miss Dobbs, get a lead on Bull and we’ll bring him with us so she doesn’t feel she has to come looking for him again to keep him company. Mr. Langley, light the way back. It’s well-past bed time.”

***

In the morning, the whole school was abuzz with excitement about the mysterious calls.

“A bunch of the guys are going after it,” Dwyer told his friends over breakfast. “First chance they get. Only no one wants to go out there on an empty stomach.”

Chris shivered. “They wouldn’t want to go if they saw what it did to that pumpkin. It’s probably finished off the whole patch by now!”

Filbin bumped Toff meaningfully with his elbow. “Go on, then, what did you find?”

Toff adjusted his glasses and scooted out of reach of more elbowing, holding a book on magical creatures and their calls. “I can’t look things up by your crude imitation of whatever noise you think it made while you were half asleep and nearly in the Forbidden Forest. You know adrenaline alters perception? You could be completely off what it actually sounds like because you were not feeling safe out there.”

“I wasn’t scared!” Filbin insisted.

Elfie hurried over to them, Bull close at her heels. She took hold of Dwyer’s sleeve. “You’re not going to let them go after the poor thing, are you?! Please stop them! They’re just going to scare him! Someone might get hurt!”

Dwyer softened, but did stop her from hauling his robe off by the sleeve. “Hey, hey, take a breath, Elfie. I can’t make them to anything or not do anything… And what do you mean ‘poor thing’?”

“I saw it!” she said insistently. “He’s a good boy! Really! He’s just lost and looking for his mommy.” She looked at the others desperately. “Can’t we do something?”

Filbin and Chris exchanged a skeptical look, but Gwen leaned forward attentively. “What is it, Elfie?”

“I don’t know,” she said in exasperation, “he… well, he looked like a great big bird. But not like a canary or anything, kind of like a chicken. Big as…” She looked around and then pointed to one of the founders’ portraits in the hall, also listening attentively. “He’s tall as the bottom of that frame. Three meters. More, probably. I’m bad at maths!”

Filbin tried to be fair and kind, but his concern was clear. “A… big chicken… three meters tall… and looking for his mommy…”

Elfie nodded. “Yes! And he’s blue! And has a collar on him! Come on, we have to go help him before those awful boys get out there! They’re getting ropes and traps and I don’t want him to get hurt!” She hauled on Filbin’s robes until he was forced to leave his breakfast half-eaten. “Now! NOW!”

The others followed after, but Filbin held up a hand to stop Toff. “You see what you can find that’s a big blue chicken bird in that book of yours, okay? We’ll see if we can help Elfie get this out of her system.”

Dwyer grinned and loaded his pockets with all kinds of things from the table before running with them to the doors.

“What’s all that for?” Gwen asked.

“Bait! Can’t catch things without bait. Just hope whatever this thing is likes pumpkin pasties!”

***

Bull bounded ahead with Elfie while the Hufflepuffs and Dwyer hurried behind, keeping an eye out for the Gryffindor hunting party.

“Hope she knows where to find this thing,” Filbin huffed, unused to so much running.

“I hope she doesn’t and we can go back inside before they put up all the hot cider,” Chris replied, having to work harder than the others at keeping up. “How is someone so small so fast?!”

“If we were swimming, it’d be faster,” Gwen said, also puffing a bit at the running.

Thankfully Elfie slowed to a quick walk as they neared the forest. Even in her haste she was wisely cautious.

“Is he in there?” Filbin asked, once they caught up.

Bull stood as alert as the droopy dog could get, staring intently into the supernaturally dark tree cover. He stood in front of the 2nd year, preventing her from walking in.

Dwyer squinted, trying to see further. After a moment he frowned and turned his back on the trees, kicking at a clod of grass impatiently. “It could be clear on the other side for all we know! I want to see it, don’t get me wrong, but I also don’t wanna die, and people die in there all the time.”

Gwen looked at her brother, rolling her eyes as she did. “All the time? That’s a pretty big fib, even for you. Maybe occasionally, or more than average, but definitely not all the time.”

“You guys, shut up!” Filbin said, while he and Chris kept helping Elfie scan the trees.

“There’s all kinds of stuff in there,” Dwyer went on. “If there is a monster in there, wouldn’t the other monsters get it? Territory fights and all?”

“There are also really smart things in there too,” Gwen argued. “They wouldn’t go pouncing on something if it just innocently wandered in. The centaurs wouldn’t, for sure. Unicorns aren’t like that either.”

“What about the spiders?” Dwyer countered. “Spiders are territorial. Spin webs all up over their space exactly so they can eat up whatever gets in.”

“Are you afraid you’ll get stuck in a web and eaten up?” Gwen grinned, poking at her brother’s pride.

He flushed red in the face, almost as red as his scarf. “Listen here, you! I’m not afraid of no normal spiders. But these aren’t normal! I heard about it, there’s this big sucker lives in there. Big as a house, they say! It could” – He paused, irritated. “Gwen, don’t do that! There’s nothing behind me, I know it! Stop looking up high trying to scare me thinking there’s a spider back there.” When she continued to stare, he frowned. “I told you to stop it! I’m going to look, hear me? I’m gonna look and ruin your joke. … Still not giving up? Fine! I know there’s nothing th” –

Dwyer turned and found himself staring into a puffy chest full of blue feathers. Before he could recover, or even look up to see what it was that owned the feathers, he was looking into an eye the size of a cricket ball, intelligent and piercing.

To his credit, Dwyer stood his ground.

The creature clucked and plunged its massive beak into the bulging pockets of Dwyer’s robe, coming up with a fresh apple which it tossed up in the air and swallowed whole before going right back into his pockets.

Elfie, the only student present left with the power of speech, giggled. “Aw. He’s hungry!”

Chris gained her composure next. “Well… looks like he does like pumpkin pasties…”

Dwyer swallowed hard and carefully held his hands up out of the way. “Elfie? Is he gonna eat me?”

She shook his head. “No. I think he’s tame…. And don’t ask me how, I don’t know, but I feel like he is.”

Dwyer risked every finger on his hands and gave the bird’s massive head a push away from his pockets. “Hang on there, fella. Give me a sec and you can have everything in there, don’t have to dig for it, okay? Just back up a bit…”

The beast stopped, gave Dwyer another close-up look with his big gold eye, and then backed up two large steps… which seemed to be the only size of step it could take considering its thickly scaled legs were like the trunk and roots of powerful young trees, each toe tipped with a fierce looking talon.

Blood dripped from a wound in one leg, which Dwyer pointed to. “Think he’ll let us fix that up for him?”

Filbin scratched his head. “Not sure any of us know how to. Wish Hagrid were here, he’d handle it perfect.”

While Dwyer fed the bird more treats from his pockets, Chris rolled up her sleeves. “He’s not here. So we’ll have to do the best we can and make him proud!”

***

That afternoon, the truck rumbled back on the grounds and toward the animal pens, this time with a long trailer attached.

Gen leaned out the window, miserable.

“There there, m’girl,” Hagrid said, carefully backing up the truck. “I’m sure we’ll find him. Big guy like that wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. Somebody’s gonna pick him up and give yer daddy a call.”

“Fat lot of good that would do,” Gen said, unhappily getting out once the trailer was parked in position, helping Copper out too. “He’s back in the US and Duke is lost here! And that muggle-proof charm isn’t going to last forever. Oh I can’t even think what would happen if they find him!”

Copper’s ears perked up and she howled, bounding off toward the hut.

“What in the world?” Hagrid said, hurrying after her with Gen.

Copper stopped in the pumpkin patch, barking and howling joyfully… while the massive blue bird chirped and danced with surprising grace considering its huge feet.

Gen’s eyes teared up as she saw them, and the students surrounding the patch. “You FOUND HIM!”

Dwyer blinked in surprise, munching the last of the pasties. “What?”

Gen hurried over and the big bird twittered happily, pressing his big head into her chest, fluffing his feathers out with delight. She hugged and stroked him in huge relief. “I can’t believe you found him! He ran off from the port as soon as someone opened the transport crate.” She kissed his feathery forehead. “Don’t you run from Mommy, Duke, do you hear me? No more running away!”

“Probably was running to ya,” Hagrid pointed out, smiling to see such a happy creature. He looked at the others and explained. “See, Vusu can cover an awful lotta ground. They’re racers down in South America. Vusu races are big business, an’ even the slow ones are faster’n most land beasts.” He saw the bandage and examined it closer. “He gone and hurt himself, did he? Who did the mending?”

“All of us,” Filbin supplied. “Chris got the herbs, Gwen made the wrappings, and I charmed them so he couldn’t peck them off. Did we do alright?”

Hagrid beamed at them. “You done good, all of ya.”

Elfie stood by nervously. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Hagrid nodded gently. “Sure is, Elfie. Thanks for lookin’ after Bull for me.” He looked around at them and smiled. “Want to see the others?”

“Others?” Dwyer repeated.

Gen, full of gratitude, beamed at them. “Only fair you get a sneak peek for all you’ve done for my Duke.” She clicked her tongue and the blue bird crouched just enough for her to jump up astride his surprisingly broad back.

He stood back up and ruffled his feathers, for all the world looking like he was relieved to have her back where she belonged. “Come on!” she said and rode him back over to the trailer where they unloaded the rest of the flock, three beautiful yellow Vusu hens that were plenty happy to be reunited with Gen and Duke.

Hagrid let them pet the hens and get them settled with fresh straw and a full trough of water and vegetables before sending them back to classes. “Go on, now. We’ll have plenty of time with them in classes, long as yer all on time an’ behave!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're letting our other fandoms show through here... Bloopies, from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Highly recommend a bloopie hunt. It's great fun! And a Vusu by any other name is a Chocobo from Final Fantasy. Seems like they'd be a fun fit as far as a surprise critter for Hagrid's classes.


	6. Alternative Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020; January
> 
> Good, old-fashioned, back-to-your-roots magic.

Snow, and not the fresh kind, lay thick over the Hogwarts grounds. Pathways, ground into filthy slush, criss crossed over the shortest possible distances between the school, the pitch, and the gardens. They were wide, since Hagrid pushed his way through at least once daily to feed and check on the animals… and warm up in the Vusu barn, which was the warmest place on campus.

The blizzard hit just after the students returned from their holiday, and the fun of fresh snow wore off in a few days.

“Remember the cider from the Archambeau’s party?” Chris sighed wistfully.

Dwyer shivered as they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was about mid-level in the castle. While not particularly cold, it definitely wasn’t warm. “Yeah,” he said. “I wish we had some now.”

Gwen watched a few 7 th years scuttling down the hall, not speaking and looking uninterested in just about anything. “Why aren’t there more holidays in January? It’s miserable. And it stays miserable clear into February!”

Dwyer had to split off from their group to head to Charms. “Hey,” he said, before leaving them. “You guys do DADA with Slytherin, right?”

Filbin, as low as the rest, just nodded.

“Tell Etienne thanks for me?” he said. “Her folks’ party is about the only thing any of us can talk about.”

Chris raised an eyebrow.

Gwen, with sister status, could do more. “Had a good time dancing with her, did you? Want me to tell her that instead?”

Dwyer tried to look dignified. “No. I want to tell her that myself. I’m not a coward.” He took the next staircase down. The Hufflepuffs took the one going up.

“He’s not going to tell her,” Filbin said, holding the door for his classmates.

They sat down in seats near Etienne and noticed a new face in the classroom.

Gwen, seated immediately next to their Slytherin friend, leaned over. “What’s Professor Vinter doing here? Doesn’t she teach Ancient Runes?”

Etienne, a tall and competent witch from an expat French wizarding family, shrugged. “Beats me. She’s been up there with McNeil since I sat down. I was even early.”

They quieted when McNeil stood up and called them to order. “Ms. Vinter’s been good enough to come and help with our class on alternative magic,” he said, gesturing to the elegant Scandinavian head of Slytherin House. “You behave yourselves, or you’ll answer to me. And you’ll be missing out on our project for end of class.” He eyed the known chatterboxes in the room, raising one wildly overgrown eyebrow to make his point before sitting down. “They’re all yours, Hilde.”

She stood up and, with a wave of her wand, a chocolate candy wrapped in gold foil floated to each student. The giggles and chatter didn’t last long as she spoke up. “Go ahead. You may eat them,” she said. “These are from Summerbird’s in Copenhagen. They are one of the finest brewers of the world’s most popular protection potion.”

The class stopped chewing instantly.

Filbin resisted swallowing. “Poshun?!” he said, speaking around a full mouth.

Vinter broke into a rather lovely smile. “Of course! Chocolate is a potion. It’s a common thing, yes, even among those without magic. It is, nevertheless, a powerful potion.”

Chris marveled as the Professor elaborated on the properties of cacao beans, prepared chocolate, candles and fire, warm furs, natural wood, and warming spices common in winter and holiday cooking. 

Gwen leaned over to Etienne again, since Filbin and Chris were at another bench. “So… all this stuff is magic?”

Etienne whispered back. “I guess. That would explain our common room and dorms. They’re all done up with that stuff. It’s super cozy down there, even with the view into the lake. Maybe it’s a different cozy than yours, but still.”

McNeil stepped up to add his bit. “Y’may be thinking, ‘But Mcneil! What’s this all doin in our class?’ Well I’ll tell ya. Long winters, dark days, and long nights draw out the beasts that like feeding on fear, sadness, and all those cranky things that well up when you’re stuck inside with people a long time.” He paced around in the way he normally had, addressing different students as he made his points. “Bogart reports rise 60% in the months from October to February. So do banshee calls, and loose dementors like y’see in the news. Worse yet, the majority of illegal dark spells are cast ‘round then too.” He paused at the end of the classroom. “We haven’t had call to learn the Patronus charm, not at your level, but  can anybody tell me what makes it work? Go on, shout it out!”

“Happiest memory!!”

“Good thoughts?”

“Things that make you feel safe?”

McNeil nodded. “Good enough. T’be still more general,” he tapped his head, “it’s this and this,” he tapped his chest. “We do a lot of our best thinking not just in the head, but the gut and heart. I don’t mean yer body parts, but y’get the idea.”

The students giggled a little.

“Alternative magic is a whole lotta this,” he said. “Some types, like chocolate, are common. Other kinds have been tossed away like yesterday’s fish, just cuz folks thought it magic what didn’t need wands was backward and shameful.” His lip wrinkled in disdain. “Well that’s a load of bull. It’s our history... and just as strong as wand magic. More powerful when done well, but not so easy to teach in books and classes. Some of the best, oldest magic comes down through families.” He grinned. “So, listen to your elders and leave off teasin’ the home-schooled kids!”

Vinter pulled out a long fur cloak, but - unlike most of the ones seen in fancy parties, especially the ones worn in abundance at the Archambeau’s Yule party – this one had mottled colors and uneven thickness. It was well-crafted, just not anything to wear and show off for beauty’s sake.

She spoke as she put it on, fastening it at her throat with a few antler clasps. “We have special permission to demonstrate a sung-spell today. I want to stress to you, this is no magic for the unskilled. McNeil will be going into more depth with this in the next few weeks, but as he’ll be covering this unit in all his classes  – and the Headmistress has agreed – we will see how strong we can get this one.”

Filbin raised his hand.

“Go ahead, Langley,” McNeil said, taking a handsome wood flute from his quill cup.

“So,” he hesitated, “is this just… a concert?”

Some students tittered, others nodded in agreement with his confusion.

The professors, however, just smiled.

Vinter took a sip of water from a goblet on McNeil’s desk. Finished, she stood up. “Sung-spells are social magic. They’re meant for gatherings, reunions, memorials, and festivals. They connect the past, present, and occasionally the future.”

“Some of the biggest prophecies in magic history have come after one of these,” McNeil added.

Chris looked around, doing a quick headcount. “This isn’t exactly a group big enough to be any of those things… is it?”

Vinter let her long hair out of the bun she kept it in and she suddenly looked far wilder. “Not yet. And we’ll get help with that.” She swept to the door and McNeil urged the students to follow into the corridor. “Sung-spells,” she said, standing in the corridor, “especially this first one, work very well on ghosts.”

Gwen, Chris, Etienne, and Filbin clustered just outside the door.

McNeil stood by while Grimhilde Vinter began to sing in a language none of them recognized, but which sounded decidedly ancient.

Gwen recognized its effect immediately. Her mother, a Selkie, sang at any occasion, even mundane ones like when they cried as babies or when her father helped with chores. She had a particular song to call them in from the cold when they played in the snow. No matter how far they were, the soft, soaring notes rode the air to reach them and coax them home.

Gwen blinked back to the present in the hall with her stone-silent classmates, looking up to see a shimmering assembly of every Hogwarts ghost gathered in a silent semi-circle around Vinter. The House ghosts stood at the front, their expressions varied from respectful interest to eager anticipation.

Vinter sang on, clearly giving instructions, though only the ghosts seemed to understand.

She finished the verse, the final note expectant and unresolved.

The ghosts dispersed in all directions.

“That’ll do us,” McNeil said. “Class, fall in! Join in if y’like. The words are less important – only Hilde’s got to know ‘em. If you can feel the meter and find some notes, chime right on in! And keep up.”

The burly Scotsman put flute to mouth and led Vinter into another verse, and the whole group followed as the Professors began to walk up the corridor. 

Filbin felt his heartbeat kick up a few notches. He felt his blood run faster, his palms tingling and his skin prickling with anticipation. He had no idea what was coming, but his steps felt light as air. Many of the others wore the same wide grin when their steps matched the easy walking rhythm of the gathering spell.

Others joined them. First, doors opened after they passed. Then shades of the ghosts were ahead, and other students, nervously gathered at classroom doors, joined them as they arrived. By the time they made it to the Great Hall, the doors stood open expectantly and the students and teachers hurried to join the (largely off-key) singing throng, Vinter’s clear voice building with the crowd.

Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for them, a smile on her more typically serious face. 

Vinter called them all to silence with a casual wave of her hand, even those clear in the back that couldn’t see her at all. She finished the song as she knelt in front of the Headmistress.

McGonagall raised her back up with a touch on the fur cloak and Vinter stood next to her. The Headmistress addressed them. “Those of you,” she said, “who are wondering what this is will have a chance to learn more in the next few weeks. For now, just make note of what you see and feel here today.” She looked at McNeil and nodded.

He turned on the voice he used for Quidditch games, and his booming yell made the hall ring. “I want every one of you lot in the center of the floor! Git those tables pushed out the way, hear me? Everybody heave to and I don’t want to see any slackers! Come on, there, don’t look like a bunch o’shocked sheep! Move it! Move it!”

Eventually the puzzled student body got to work and McNeil picked Gwen and Dwyer out of the fray.

“Ah. There y’are,” he handed them each a bodhran. “You know yer way ‘round one of these?”

Dwyer’s face lit up and he eagerly took the drum and double-headed beater. “Bet your boots we do!”

Gwen was more confused. “We’re supposed to play? But… what song?”

“It’ll be a reel to start,” McNeil said quietly. “Not sure where it’ll head from there, but you’ll be just great. An’ you’ll have help join in, just wait and see!”

Just as soon as there was room, McNeil pushed himself into the middle of the hall. He stomped his foot in a strong beat and piped a spry, toe-tapping reel tune.

McGonagall began to clap along, helping the confused students decide it was okay to join in.

Gwen wasn’t sure how to jump in, but Dwyer was much more swept up in this out-of-the-ordinary permission to party. He stomped along until he got the tempo then pounded twice to let McNeil know he was coming in.

Emboldened, Gwen joined him, and they strode into the circle to the cheers of their friends.

They stood with McNeil, Dwyer goading the inner circle to get into the spicy, sprightly dance. There weren’t any takers, at least not until Vinter began the next stage of the spell.

At the head of the room with the headmistress, Hilde clapped with the drums and, when she was ready, sang out.

The verses flew fast and thick. It was a wonder she could get her tongue around them. In a rejoicing trance, she set the students’ toes tapping, hands clapping, until a few couldn’t stand it.

McNeil stopped his flute for a moment to haul the toe-tappers into a circle. He stood with them and started it turning with a simple step they soon elaborated on. Another ring formed outside that one before things got boisterous.

Longbottom swept up his wife, the matron, and gave her a spry dance in the center with the musicians to the cheers of the others.

Francesca “Chess” Styles, one of the Ilvermorny transfers, transfigured a stool into a drum and proved to be quite expert with it.

Dwyer and Filbin had a brief dance-off, which Dwyer won, then celebrated by pulling Etienne out of the ring for their own spin with some eager couples.

Suddenly Vinter’s voice shifted. While the dancing continued, the more sensitive members of the crowd swayed and a few began to see forms above the people.

It was clearer for some than others – shimmering forms of proud lions roaring, fierce pythons soaring around the hall, the cries of eagles and their formidable shadows, snuffling badgers burrowing in and out of sight.

Then there were other visions. Among the dancers were figures, echoes of students, teachers, headmasters and headmistresses seen just out of the corner of the eye.

Graduations, celebrations, hats thrown in the air. Crisper than most, the echo of two figures on brooms soared through the hall to a barrage of silent fireworks.

By the time Vinter’s fevered singing slowed and stopped on a final note, the hall was still, all of them staring upward with stars in their eyes.

McNeil locked eyes with her. 

She nodded and straightened up, squaring her shoulders.

He tapped his flute with his wand, turning it into a set of bagpipes.

Vinter sang again with crisp and militant rhythm, proud and driven. The verse woke up the hall.

Dwyer, among others, hadn’t felt so energized in who knew how long.

Once McNeil had his pipes droning, he looked at Chess and the Connollys. “A march, please, and make it strong.”

Chess tapped the stool again, shouldering the now-snare-drum and rapping out a call to assemble.

No one questioned. No one wondered.

Vinter crossed the hall, arm in arm with the Headmistress. They didn’t stop at the doors, and the students followed. Dwyer, Gwen, and Chess interspersed with their drums. McNeil brought up the rear.

Filbin noticed the youngest Weasley, the first year with the white-gold hair. Young Louis was looking a bit lost, separated from the rest that were further ahead in the crowd marching with the Potters. Filbin shouldered his way back to him and took the 11 year old boy’s hand.

Without a word, but with a reassuring smile, he brought them both to where the famous families marched together. Filbin made sure Louis’ cousins took hold of him. Then he fell back into the crowd, content to be in the thick of things.

With the pipes behind and Vinter’s powerful voice ahead, they felt the history in the stone beneath and around them.

Vinter threw her arms in the air and the main doors opened wide for them, sending a blast of cold air over them all. She stepped out into the snow in her archaic fur cloak, singing tribute and loyalty to all who came before and passed on, many before their time.

Professor Longbottom joined the Headmistress and put his arm around her shoulders while they both let some tears flow.

Though many wept, it was no sad occasion.

Chris hooked arms with Etienne, who held Dwyer’s hand, who had an arm around Filbin, who held Elfie’s hand and gripped Toff’s too and so on. Transfers hooked arms with 5 th generation students. Two Potters held the hands of a Malfoy. Weasleys hugged everybody – there were nearly enough of them for that.

Vinter sent her final note across the grounds and the days-old snow shimmered like new, a calm resting over it all making everything that much brighter, that much more beautiful.

McNeil, his pipes now transfigured back to the smaller flute, marched his way up in front. His breath clouded thick in the cold, his raised voice loud and proud.

“Well, now! Aren’t we a fine bunch?! Give us a shout, now, and end this thing right!” He stood straight and looked at them with fierce fire in his eye. “Who are we?!” he bellowed.

The crowd, full of pent up energy and pride bellowed right back. “HOGWARTS!”

He beamed back at them. “Now THAT is music to my ears!”


	7. There at the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020: First day
> 
> Bit backward, but here's the beginning.

Charisma “Chris” Dobbs pulled away from her family to find a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, eager and amazed that she made it there. Late, but there. As a 14-year-old, very nearly 15, she was one of the oldest students ever to receive a letter. For years, her family and their close wizarding community in their country village believed she was a squib. Even Chris believed she was never going to have anything to do with making magic herself. 

Still, she didn’t let it get her down. She was still the finest wandless potion-maker many of them had ever seen. Her options were limited as far as recipes, since so many required a spell or two in the brewing process, but once she figured it out, she never got them wrong.

When her letter arrived, it was five pages long, not including the supplies lists. Apparently one of the wizards reinforcing the magic of the magic children on record ate a bad whelk and missed a day. Her birthday. The Quill blotted once. Her name was illegible. 

“Just as well,” Chris said, as she explained this to her new friends, the selkie twins Gwendolyn and Dwyer Connolly, “cuz we all didn’t think I could do magic anyway. I never did anything interesting until after the letter arrived.”

“What did you do?” Gwen asked, fascinated.

“All our pots and pans floated around the room.” Chris laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I was too busy dancing and telling my sister I told her so. I’m the younger one. She graduated last year.”

The train lurched and Dwyer reached up to keep their luggage in place. 

The compartment door flew open and a tall boy about their age with ruffled black hair hurried to sit before he could be knocked down as the train got going. 

“Hey all!” He beamed at all of them, offering his hand. “Filbin! You can call me Filbin. You guys are new? Damn, you’re old to be new!” He elbowed Chris good-naturedly. “Except you. We all know your story. My folks know your uncle! He couldn’t shut up about it to Dad. Brought it up at every party he went to all summer!” He looked at the Selkies. “What about you? You two part of the exchange program? I thought those were all showing up at the school, not the platform?”

Dwyer took an immediate shine to him, which was good considering they might have passed for brothers if Filbin weren’t so tall and Dwyer didn’t have freckles.

“Homeschooled!” Dwyer said, accepting the handshake by slapping his hand into Filbin’s. “Dwyer Connolly. This is my twin sis, Gwen.”

“Irish?” Filbin said. “Well, awesome! So, if you’re not transfers and you’re not a mess like Dobbs here, what’s your story?”

Gwen smiled. “Mum’s a Selkie. Dad’s a wizard. Mum’s people don’t like schools much. They don’t like sending their kids away from home even more than they don’t like schools.”

“But dad’s people been coming to Hogwarts for generations,” Dwyer explained. “So, they made a deal. We could come, but only when mum thought we were ready. Took her a few years, but here we are.”

Filbin seemed thrilled to bits and rubbed his hands together. “This’ll be great! Don’t you worry, mates, I’ll make sure you’re all sorted with what you need. Oh, I mean sure you’ve got supplies and all, but I mean with knowing where to go and that. And what professors to avoid or warm up to. I know people all over the school, so no matter how you’re sorted into houses I’ll have somebody in there look after you.”

Gwen beamed. “Oh, well that’s fine! Dad was in Gryffindor, but he’s had all kinds in his family. Mum never did go to school, so we haven’t got our hearts set on anything, really.”

“We’ll see how it goes,” Dwyer said. “I’m game for anything!”

Chris scooted up on the edge of her seat. “I hope you saved room! I’ve brought two months’ allowance for the snacks cart! I’m in the mood to celebrate!”

At the Hogwarts platform, Chris and the twins parted ways with Filbin. As instructed, they congregated with the first years, standing head and shoulders above the small crowd.

A tall black man in professor’s robes stood to the side. He spotted them and called out their names while the first years followed behind Hagrid like a flock of baby ducks. 

“Good evening,” he said. “My name is Professor Brasher. We’re very glad to have you three with us. If you’ll come with me, we’ll follow along with the first years. But you’ll be sorted with the transfer students. They’ll be arriving at the school shortly. Come along.”

*** 

Chris stuck close to the Twins. “Ooooo this’ll be good. You know they send the first years across on boats. Bet you we’ll get to go that way too.”

“What schools are transferring students, Professor?” Dwyer asked, hurrying to keep up with the professor’s long steps.

“We have several from Ilvermorny,” he said. “Three from Mahoutokoro and one from Durmstrang.” He looked up to see a bank of clouds gathering. “Ah. That’ll be Mahoutokoro. Come along now, we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Dwyer squinted into the clouds as they hurried. “Look! Look look! Do you see the sails?”

Gwen and Chris looked up too. The lighter clouds behind showed the silhouette of traditional sails and a low ship body sailing regally to rest on the lawns near the ink black lake.

“Durmstrang’s here already,” Chris pointed. The massive galleon waited on the lake, only very dimly lit at the windows.

“So they are.” Brasher lit his wand and waved it at the ship. An answering wave glowed from the bow. “Excellent. We’ll pick theirs up once we’re in the boats.” He craned his neck around to see the Mahoutokoro students disembark, then looked around. “Now we’re just waiting on Ilvermorny.” He looked around and made a face. “Blast it all. Late again…”

They all jumped as there was a loud bang, quickly followed by two more, before a massive charter bus emblazoned with blue and cranberry red appeared in a flash. Going at over 40 mph, it churned up turf before it slowed down and turned about. Breaks squeaked and shocks settled the bulk of the bus with a mechanical sigh. Music playing inside, at what must have been a near ear-splitting volume, shut off.

Dwyer grinned. “That any particular song?”

Brasher snorted watching the door open. “Their school song. Every year it’s a new version.”

A pudgy driver climbed down and smiled at the professor. “Good evening, sir,” he said, shaking Brasher’s hand. “Sorry about the lawn. We’ll patch it before we leave. Misjudged the exit. Ron Wilson, bus driver. What do I do with the baggage?”

While he and Brasher discussed unloading, another woman disembarked, clearly an official, who stood at the door with a clipboard and list. 

The first girl got off and Chris’ jaw dropped. “They must do things very different over there…!”

The girl, either a 6th or 7th year from the look of her, wore jeans and a shirt-and-tie print tee with the sleeves cut off, showing an overwhelmingly large tattoo from wrist to shoulder and all the way up the left side of her neck up to her black, pixie-cut hair.

The instructor, clearly with a measure of affectionate disdain, smacked the cheeky teenager upside the head. “We’re not having casual Friday here, Miss Styles! Robes! Hear me? Go on!”

Dwyer chuckled. “Apparently not that different.”

The two girls that unloaded after the first went back in made them question again. Both had unusual color to their hair, and when they all joined together to get to the boats it was clear they had unusual eyes.

“Heterochromia,” the redhead explained. “We’re twins, me and Ven. Pretty sure we had a metamorphagus down the family line somewhere.”

“Didn’t hand on the skills,” Ven said, “but we did get some fun colors!”

While the Connollys happily pointed out common ground as twins, Chris stared at the other girl’s tattoo. 

“That’s amazing!” she said. “All those flowers… it’s beautiful!”

“You can call me Chess,” she said, smiling. “Thanks. It’s about the only thing stays the same with me. Those two are half-assed knockoffs, but I’m the real deal.” 

Chris suddenly found herself staring at … herself. But herself with a very cool tattoo. “WHOA!”

Chess laughed, still wearing Chris’ face. “Neat parlor trick, right?” She shifted back to the look from the bus. “Not many of us around, but heard Hogwarts has a few. Be nice to be with a few more morphs!”

With the Japanese students, there were too many for one boat. Chess and Ven volunteered to share their boat while Gen stuck with the three younger ones and the professor. 

Brasher set the boat moving with a tap of his wand, but while the main body of little boats floated a straight path toward the castle, their boat veered off toward the Durmstrang boat. “One more pickup,” he said, pulling up alongside.

One of the lifeboats swung out and lowered down next to them, containing a tall older student and a tiny girl wrapped up in an overly large fur coat. Both seemed uncomfortable.

The older boy knelt down and spoke very kindly to the little girl. He wiped her eyes, kissed her cheek, and held her hand while Brasher held the other to help her board.

“Be happy, Elfie,” the boy said in halting English. “You are stronger than you think.” He looked up and called to the ship that began to bring him up. He looked at the professor and bowed curtly, with great respect.

Chris couldn’t help but look at the little one watching him go up again. She spoke low to Dwyer. “She can’t be part of the transfer program… She’s too young.”

“Looks like it might be a permanent transfer,” he replied. “Y’know, coming to a new school but for keeps.”

The professor, though firm and stiff in all his dealings on shore, softened immensely as he steadied the young one. “There, there, Miss Brandt. We’re very happy to have you. And this isn’t forever, remember? Winter break will be here before you know it and you can go home and visit. Things are very different here, you’ll see. You’ll have friends in no time.”

The little one nodded and sat down, her face a pale picture of resigned terror.

Gen would have none of this. She touched the girl’s knee. “Hey?” When she looked up, Gen smiled. “I don’t like boats much. Think you can hold my hand so I’m not nervous?”

Elfie seemed to consider this. “You’re lying,” she said in perfect English, “but I’d like it if I could sit with you? You’re brave, and nice.”

Brasher chuckled and Gen grinned. “Come on, then. Just be careful or we’ll tip.”

Elfie settled on the seat by the older girl who held her close. “Yes. This is good.”

“Know what’d be better?” Chris said. She dug in her pockets and took out a chocolate frog. “I have a couple left over from the train. Have one?”

Elfie stared and hesitated before taking it. She held it reverently, looking around at them as if seeing them for the first time. “Thank you…”

Gwen nudged Elfie’s shoe with her toe. “Go on, then. It only works if you eat it!”

The little boat joined the tail end of the procession headed into the caves under the school. Elfie munched the chocolate, getting color back in her face. Chris looked around in total wonder and awe. Gen waved at her sister and Chess up ahead. Dwyer yelled once to make the cave echo and Gwen stomped his foot so the yelp echoed louder.

Brasher shook his head, sure at least some of the rowdy bunch would end up in his precious Hufflepuff House.


	8. Selkies Take the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020: A couple of weeks into September.
> 
> Aching for a swim, the selkie twins need a way to safely use the lake.

Dwyer stood on the bridge with Gwen, Filbin, and Chris, leaning over to look at the lake beneath them. He picked up a bit of gravel and dropped it, listening for the tiniest splash far below them. 

“How deep do you suppose it is?” Gwen asked.

Filbin shrugged. “Folks say it connects to the sea through tunnels under the castle and through the rock. Kinda like Loch Ness.”

“I didn’t know Loch Ness did that,” Chris said, munching something from a plain brown sack. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’m cold!”

Gwen sighed, looking at the water longingly. She snuggled up to her brother. “I’d love a swim… the baths just don’t do it for me… yknow?”

Dwyer put his arm around her. “Yeah… better believe I know.”

Chris came back to them. “Hey… you guys okay?”

“Selkies aren’t made to stay out of real water so long,” Dwyer grumped, pulling his gaze up so he wasn’t still staring longingly at the lake. “It’s a pain.”

“You can’t go in there,” Filbin said quickly, concerned. “There’s a kraken what lives in there. And all kinds of things. Even” – he stopped and his eyes widened – “selkies…!”

“No!” Dwyer snorted. “Merfolk. NOT selkies. They’ll call themselves selkies, sure, and it’s not your fault people use the words interchangeably. Point is, they’re not us and we’re not them. And from what Mum says, we don’t get on with them.”

“She told us about them,” Gwen explained. “They’re freshwater. We’re salt water, but we can live anywhere. We’ve got merfolk where we live, but they migrate. The freshwater ones are super territorial. Mum said not to mess with them…” She looked crestfallen.

Chris frowned. “No. No, we’re not giving up like that.” She took hold of the bag and grabbed Gwen’s sleeve. “Come on! We’re going to see Hagrid. If anybody has an idea how you can get in there, it’s him. He knows everything about the grounds.”

“Might have something there,” Filbin said, as he and Dwyer followed too. “Give him a chance. I know he’d get a kick out of helping you out.”

When they arrived at the groundskeeper’s hut, Hagrid wasn’t alone. Gen Drake, Ilvermorny student, was there helping feed a recently whelped litter of kitsune kits on loan from a research station in Japan. She fed one on her lap with a warm bottle while her laelaps dog, Copper, gave the others a thorough licking bath. “Oh, hey guys!” she smiled. “What’re you doing here?”

Hagrid had two kits in one hand and both of their bottles held securely between the fingers of his other hand. “Where were ya a few minutes ago? We had to do this crew in shifts. That’s okay. Sit! Sit! Could do with a tea, though?”

“I’m on it!” Chris said, getting to work filling the kettle.

Filbin sat down with the others, finding spots around the cozy hut. “It may be a bad time… We came to ask for your advice.”

Hagrid looked tickled pink, even blushing under his beard. “Well well! Bit of chat don’t cost nothing. Go ahead, what can we do for you?”

“We want to use the lake,” Dwyer said quickly. “We’re sick and tired of bobbing in those ridiculous baths! They’re like… like… porcelain prisons!”

Gwen looked at Hagrid in apology. “I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it to sound that bad.”

“Like hell I didn’t,” Dwyer grumbled. “I’d pay everything we have in the bank to get whiskers-deep in a big mess of waterweed, hunt up a clam, even just sprint as fast as I can in water. Can’t do that in a tub!”

Hagrid shook his head. “That’s gonna be tough. The lake folk don’t take well to visitors, but they’re deep enough surface swimmers don’t bother them much. Thing is, you two aren’t surface swimmers. You’re students, sure enough, but you they’ll likely see as a threat. Very territorial are the lake folk.”

Gen looked confused. “Wait, what do you mean? What about whiskers?”

Gwen, unashamed of their heritage but rightfully careful who they told, felt alright telling her. “We’re Selkies. Mum is, we are too. Dad not so much. But… we’ve been out of real water for weeks… we’ve never done that before. I don’t like it either, especially with a great lovely lake out there.” Her large, sad eyes were enough to break the creature-lovers’ hearts.

Hagrid gently bounced the kits on his knee until they gave bitty burps in near unison. “This is a problem,” he said, setting them down in a bed made of soft blankets and filled with clean hay. “But I’d be willing to wager it’s not an impossible problem.”

The kettle whistled and Chris busily prepared the warmed pot.

Gen set her contented kit on the bed too. “I think,” she said, “we need more information. They’re a civilization down there. A small one, but still intelligent. Could be they’ve got conditions they’ll agree to?”

Hagrid scratched his whiskers. “Could be, could be… They agreed to a part in tournaments in the past.”

“We don’t want to go about it in any way that might insult them,” Gen said. “I don’t know if my dad dealt with freshwater folk in the past, but I plan on talking to him soon. He loves telling anybody who’ll listen about magic creatures. He’ll dig up plenty to share on them if anybody has an interest.”

Dwyer sat back, thinking hard. “Mum might know something too…”

“She hasn’t gone any further inland than the mountains in her life!” Gwen said. “When would she have ever met freshwater folk?”

“She’s met the sea merfolk,” Dwyer shrugged. “You know how they love to tell stories. Could be they shared something about their lake cousins? Maybe not these specifically, but related?”

“Tea!” Chris said, bringing over the pot and a mixed variety of cups and chipped mugs. “Personally, I like that plan. Asking around. It’s like we know anything about what’s in there.”

Hagrid smiled. “Well I can tell you a bit!”

They passed a pleasant afternoon hearing stories about the lake, and the forest, from the man that knew them best.

*** 

It took time for the letters, or package in the case of the Selkies, to arrive in response to their questions. Gen’s father’s letter arrived first, and she pulled them all together at a table in the Hufflepuff common room before lights out.

“Here,” she pointed out the more useful bit. “This first part is telling me to behave myself, but here’s the good part.”

“Just sum up,” Filbin said. “I’ve got to get to astronomy in a few minutes for observation hour.”

“Fine.” She skimmed it. “He says he’s never worked with the intelligent species. Vusu are one thing, but merfolk, fresh or salt, are out of his experience.” She looked at them apologetically. “I’m awfully sorry… I mean, he’s got half a dozen books listed here he says will help, but it’ll take ages to read through them to find what we need, if Hogwarts even has them in the library.”

Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “Oh… Darn it…”

Chris hugged her friend. “Hey, don’t get all wilty! Your mom may still have something to offer?”

“Maybe,” she sniffed and tried to pull herself up with more dignity. “Dwyer gets most of the mail from the folks. He’s supposed to look after me while we’re here anyway.”

Filbin sat up closer. “It’ll be a heavy mail day tomorrow. Bet you it’ll come in the morning!”

Elfie came over and leaned on the table. “Came today. Go find Dwyer, okay?”

Gwen brightened up. “Really?! Where?”

The 2 nd year thought a second. “I think he’s in the hall. Room for everybody there.”

Chris grinned. “Well, come on, Elfie! You want to help out?”

“Ok!” she smiled and held her hand all the way there.

They hurried to the mostly empty hall where Dwyer had just sat down. He looked up at them, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Elfie said you had news!” Gwen and the others sat down.

“I do, but” – he shook his head. “Nevermind. Here’s what mum sent. I think we can try it tomorrow if we can get Hagrid to loan us a boat and show us where the merfolk live.”

*** 

Neither Selkie slept well that night. Dwyer was up with anticipation, and Gwen couldn’t sleep for nerves, but they all met outside by the lake while the dawn mist still swirled on the surface.

Filbin yawned widely and Chris handed him a thermos.

Thinking it was tea, he poured a cup and took a long sip – and immediately spewed it out.

“The hell was that?!” he sputtered.

“Morning Juice,” Chris said, attempting not to look offended. “If you’d just swallowed, you’d have been wide awake!”

“What’s in it?” he frowned.

She smiled disarmingly. “Dried roots, a couple berries, a few other things, and tea…?”

He gave her back the thermos, which he now noticed rattled. “Yeah, no. You can keep that.”

Chris contentedly served herself a cup. “Suit yourself, yawny-mc-dreamer-pants.”

Hagrid met them with a little boat tied in the weeks. “Here y’are.” He pointed. “I chucked a buoy out there, should be right a’top the village… y’know a long ways above, but it’s a straight shot down.” He cleared his throat, fussing with his coat. “You sure you know what you’re doin’?”

Dwyer shrugged off his robes, wearing his everyday clothes plus a soft leather jacket trimmed with black fur. Gwen did the same, but hers was white.

“Mum was specific,” Dwyer said. “Just gotta hope they’re not out to prove something when they answer us.”

Chris went to join them in the boat, but Gwen stopped her.

“No. Dwy and I can swim back fast enough to get away. You’ll be safer here with everybody.”

Chris fumed inwardly but kept her sass to herself. She pouted on the shore while Dwyer rowed them out to the buoy.

He gave her the pearl necklace their mother sent. “You remember the words?” he asked.

Gwen nodded and cleared her throat. She performed the charm from the latter then dipped the tip of her wand in the water, projecting her voice through the depths.

Gen squinted out at them, shading her eyes as the sun came up.

Filbin skipped rocks while Chris pouted and Hagrid paced.

“See anything yet?” he asked.

“No. They’re still just leaning over the edge.”

On the boat, Gwen finished the eerie song and carefully lowered the pearls so they’d drop straight down. She watched until they were out of sight – which wasn’t long in the dark of the castle’s shadow. She sat back up. “So how long before they respond?”

“Not sure,” Dwyer said, looking over the side. “Depends if they post a guard and how long it takes to get to the boss and back with the gems.”

“Do you think I did it right?” she asked, nervous. “Mum’s only ever taught me silly for-fun songs before… suppose I insulted them?”

Bubbles suddenly surrounded the little boat and they both held on when they bobbed violently, even just for a moment.

A male of the merfolk surfaced while others watched from underneath.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Dwyer said.

On the bank, Gen pointed. “They’ve got company! There’s one just out of the water!”

“If there’s one, there’s a dozen,” Hagrid said, trying to get a better look.

Chris bit her nails and couldn’t decide whether to watch or look away.

The merfolk screeched at Dwyer and he took the hint.

He smoothly shifted to his seal form, a sleek black beast with long whiskers where his freckles were. He bellowed back and slapped a flipper on the boat.

The merfolk submerged and he slipped over the side with them.

“He’s left the boat!” Gen said. 

“They’ll be taking terms now, I’d wager,” Hagrid said. “Wish I brought my binoculars.”

Gwen began to get worried after what felt like 10 long minutes. Really, it was one minute, but sitting alone in a boat surrounded by a tribe of foreign waterfolk makes time absolutely crawl.

Finally the greenish shadows in the water thinned then slipped silently away.

“Dwy?” she whispered, cautious. “Dwy, you there?” She swallowed hard, muttering under her breath. “You better not be dead… or a hostage… or” –

As soon as she took a peek over the edge of the boat, she was hit with a stream of lake water to the face.

Her whole face went red with fury, especially hearing Dwyer’s laughing bark. “Why you-! You-!”

She shifted and dove in at the same time, the two of them like black and white torpedoes blitzing in and out of the murk.

Dwyer led her straight to their friends, but she chased him right onto the shore, clamping her strong teeth on his ear.

“That’s enough, y’hear me?!” Hagrid grabbed hold by their neck scruffs. “Leggo, right now!”

They both shifted so he was holding them by their coats.

“You gave us a fright and a half!” Hagrid scolded, setting them down. “What happened? You lit out of there like they was after your hide!”

Dwyer beamed. “No! They’re okay with it! Said as long as we don’t go to their place, and keep up out of the lower levels, we can swim all we like. Basically they don’t have much use for air-breathers. Said to them we’re no different than the other swimming kids, except we asked politely.”

Gwen swatted at his arm. “You might’ve told me that before yanking me in!”

“Who yanked?” he said, indignant. “I never laid a flipper on you, much less yanked you!”

“Yes, you did!” she steamed. “Squirted me right in the face!”

“Not yanking!” Dwyer winked, slowly backing away toward the lake.

“You-!” Gwen erupted in unintelligible Irish rage, which quickly dissolved into water roughhousing when she chased him right back into the now sunny shallows of the lake.

“Oi!” Hagrid called. “At least bring back the boat!”


	9. A Slytherin's Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020; late October
> 
> There are bad apples in every lot, but it's nice to find a good one.

Most of Slytherin House preferred to study either on their own or in their favorite secluded spots in the castle, or together in the common room. A few others took their books to Professor Vinter’s classroom. She offered tutoring and let them use her personal reference library to supplement their textbooks.

Etienne liked the study hall and tutoring. Seemed silly to pass up the advantage. And she always had a study partner – Lowell Friduwulf.

He quietly worked at her table, was never irritated with her questions, and always had good ones himself.

That evening he was moving slower, yawning more, but not in the crabby way he sometimes had. “I think I’ll turn in,” he said, earlier than usual.

“Good idea,” she agreed. “Don’t need to stress yourself and come down with something. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He got up to go and she saw him pause.

She looked toward a corner table where Alphonse Burke, one of Lowell’s roommates, was hunched over a couple of first years… who tried not to look like they’d been staring at Lowell in terror.

Burke noticed him looking, smirked, and whispered something else to the first years who lost some color to their faces.

Etienne gave her friend’s sleeve a little tug. “Hey. He’s an ass, we all know it. They’re all just lies.”

Lowell frowned. “But the younger ones believe him.” He picked up his books. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.”

A few minutes after he left, Vinter arrived back from an errand to the library. She touched Etienne’s shoulder to get her attention. “May I see you in my office a moment?” she asked quietly, to keep disturbance down in the study room.

“Yes, of course…” Etienne followed to the office, an adjacent room to the classroom.

Vinter’s class was enough to frighten even a well-seasoned 3 rd year entering for the first time. Her office made many 7 th years squirm.

A massive feathered headdress on a mannequin was displayed in the corner. The walls were hung with full tanned hides of animals and small tapestries of ridiculously advanced age. Shelves groaned under knickknacks, rune sets, animal figures carved in dozens of materials, crystals and gems, and tiny bottles filled with things only she knew – none had labels.

“Do sit,” Vinter said, sitting behind the desk.

Etienne sat in the high-backed guest chair opposite.

Vinter was a tall, severe looking woman. She wore well-fitted dresses that went from high necklines clear down to the tops of her buttoned shoes – which many suspected buttoned halfway up her calf. Her hair was so long it made a large braid that circled a substantial bun at the back of her head, always smooth, shiny, and without a hair out of place. Only her Slytherin students ever saw it down, and it was only in the evenings when she came to clear the common room for the evening.

“I’m concerned about Lowell,” she said. “Have you noticed anything different recently?”

“Burke’s got the ear of the younger kids,” Etienne said. “It bugs Lowell they’re all scared of him. I think he’d hoped for something different this year…”

Vinter looked genuinely sorry. “If I could change him to the other 5 th year dorm, I would, but at this point that might make his problems with Burke and his boys worse. Besides that, the other room is full to bursting already. There’s just no room.”

Etienne’s hope dimmed. “Oh…”

“I have noticed a few things, and I hope you won’t think me intrusive, but… your friendship has done quite a bit to warm his reputation.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s all unearned, of course. The reputation. Mr. Friduwulf wouldn’t hurt a fly. But around here, either you establish one for yourself or others assign one to you.”

Etienne nodded. 

“I’ve also noticed,” she said, more thoughtful, “he’s shown a particular interest in your Hufflepuff friends.”

“I hadn’t noticed…”

“Well,” Vinter smiled a little. “Really, it’s more of an interest in Miss Dobbs. Professor McNeil said Lowell makes a point of holding the door for her at every opportunity?”

Etienne felt sheepish. She really hadn’t noticed, but now the professor mentioned it, he did keep a close eye on where Chris was in a room. “Well… when you put it that way…”

“I simply think having a few more loyal friends may do Lowell some good,” Vinter said. She stood up and took a book from the stack she brought in. “Here’s the volume you requested. How is that essay coming along?”

*** 

Lowell arrived at breakfast, sitting apart like he usually did, and it wasn’t long before Etienne joined him, her white kneazle on her shoulders like a fur stole with alert green eyes. 

“Hey. Want to go sit with Filbin today?”

He stared at her. “Sit… what?”

She didn’t smile. She rarely smiled before 10am. But she nodded to where Filbin, the Selkies, Chris, and the others sat clustered together. “Over there. Come on, bring your plate.”

He had to scramble to follow her, but he managed it.

She sat down next to Bets and Elfie. “Morning. Pass the coffee?”

Filbin stared at Lowell, suddenly tongue-tied. “Uh…”

Chris passed the coffee. “Morning, Ettie! Cream or sugar today?”

Dwyer, seated on the end by Gwen, frowned and turned enough to make it clear he had no interest in even acknowledging Lowell.

Elfie, however, seated nearest the empty seat, looked up at Lowell. 

He looked back nervously. 

She smiled and tugged his sleeve. “You have three weeks,” she said. “You can sit with us. It’s okay.”

That seemed to ease things for Filbin. “Yeah, pull up some bench. Why not?”

Lowell sat down with the 2 nd year and let her put some toast on his plate. 

“You need to eat,” she said, munching a cheese Danish. “Lotsa butter.”

He smiled and set to it obediently. “Butter. Got it.”

Gwen smiled too. “We’ve got DADA together, right? I’m Gwen. This is Dwyer.”

Dwyer grumbled and focused on his eggs. Gwen pinched him so he’d pay attention, but all that did was kick off one of their arguments.

Chris was unphazed. “Morning, Lowell. Want some coffee?”

He turned a few colors of pink in the face and had to clear his throat. “Uh, um… well, coffee… it doesn’t agree with me.”

She looked at his red cheeks in concern. “Had some already? Yeah, that’s not healthy. Here, have some tea. Good with toast.” She poured him a cup and immediately went back to reviewing transfiguration notes with Toff and Bets.

When he looked over at Etienne – a coffee into breakfast – she smiled at him and he smiled back, very grateful for the invitation. 

He was determined not to waste the new connection, especially while enjoying the friendly ribbing the others gave Chris for allowing Fluffy, her owl with an identify complex, to eat from her plate.

*** 

At dinner, he accepted Etienne’s invitation to join the Hufflepuffs again. To his amazement, Chris and Filbin parted to let him sit between them.

“Sorry,” Filbin said, once he’d sat down. 

“For… what?”

“For being awkward this morning,” he said, looking sheepish. “I mean, I’m awkward a lot” –

“Yup!” Dwyer agreed from a few seats down.

“Can it, you!” Filbin retorted. He passed Lowell the roast potatoes. “I’m just used to being the tallest guy around, yknow? By default, the biggest.”

Lowell looked him up and down and realized Filbin looked like a twig compared to him, even for a couple of gangly 15 year olds. “It’s just genes,” Lowell reassured him with a shrug. “I don’t even lift or anything.”

Filbin’s eyes widened. “For real? Ha! And here I thought you got ripped to scare the 1 st years! Well, that and get girls.”

He grinned. “Well, the kids are already scared before they see me, and so far the girls are too. My rep doesn’t do much for me either way.” He filled his plate and loaded his fork. “You’re more popular than I’ll ever be, and more power to you for it.”

Filbin, with his wide streak of vanity, beamed and punched Lowell’s arm. “You know what, mate? I’d follow you anywhere carrying all your books just to hear that!”

Chris, who’d been absorbed talking with Gwen, seemed to only just then take notice of her neighbor on the bench. “Hey Lowell,” she said. “Recovered from breakfast?”

He felt his gut was tying itself in knots. “Um. Yes. Thank you, Charis”-

Chris’ eyes widened. “Oh! No, you don’t have to use the big name. Call me Chris!”

“Okay,” he said, flattered, “Chris. Yeah, I’m better.”

“Y’know what?” she said, smiling. “We’re doing some neat stuff in DADA this week. Crossover with potions. You and Etienne should study with us!”

“Wait,” Etienne said, hearing her name, “where do you all study?”

Gwen spoke up so Chris could get a few bites of dinner. “In the study rooms of the library, outside if the weather’s nice, sometimes even in a quiet hall somewhere.”

“The variety makes it exciting,” Dwyer said around a bite of a well-filled Yorkshire pudding. 

“I’d like that,” Lowell agreed. “I’d like that very much.”

*** 

Between them, they found a class gap in common, a low-traffic hall, and enough books to share between them for assignments.

“I need the book you’re sitting on,” Etienne said to Dwyer, not looking up from her parchment.

Dwyer crunched an apple. “Well, which one? I’m sitting on a stack of” – he leaned down to count and she yanked the one she needed from his stack.

“That one,” she smiled smugly at him. “Thank you.”

He struggled to right himself, and his makeshift seat. “Don’t have to pitch a guy on his nose, y’know.”

Gwen, having seen the whole thing, grinned. “You do when he’s thick as you.”

Lowell paid close attention to Chris’ charms study with Filbin while keeping a safe distance. A novice caster and arresto momentum were never a predictable combination.

“You really never learned this stuff?”

Chris wasn’t the least bit insulted. “Nope! So I’m all kinds of behind, but everybody’s helping me catch up.”

“Speaking of catch,” Filbin sent fruit, from a bowl he’d taken from the kitchens, flying at her.

She ducked rather than use the spell.

Toff, just a bit further down the hall, slowed it and put it in another bowl by him. “You’re supposed to stop them, Chris,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me when!” she grumbled. “And why did you pick fruit? It’s a tiny target!”

Filbin looked surprised. “I thought you liked fruit?”

Lowell came over to Chris and stood alongside her. “If you’re worried you’ll miss, or if you need to stop more than one thing, then widen the sweep of your wand.” He showed her a grip on his wand. “Here, hold it like this. More flexibility in your wrist.”

She carefully copied it. “How do you know? I mean, Professor Flitwick showed me the first way.”

“Flitwick’s got tiny hands,” he replied. That made her giggle, which encouraged him. “This is a dueler’s hold. Very practical and you can get a lot from it. Now, do the motion, wider, but no incantation. Just practice.”

He showed her and she copied. He corrected very lightly by pushing her elbow down.

“Good. You don’t need to yell for something small like this, so just focus on the motion.”

A voice from down the hall made him freeze. “You’re cozying up to Puffs and Squibs now, brother? Won’t Dad just love to hear about that!”

Lowell refused to turn and look at his younger brother. He put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Don’t listen to Vincent,” he whispered. “He’ll go away in a minute.”

Filbin watched Vincent, a 3 rd year, and his group of Slytherin friends approach Lowell.

“What did you say, Lowell?” he pressed, grinning as they ignored everyone else. “Trying to win over the bottom of the barrel? They’ll get on with anybody… they your last shot?”

Lowell gently pushed Chris to the side.

“Bugger off, Vince,” he said, frowning. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Vince, a shorter and slightly more handsome version of his brother by virtue of having no scars, stood nose to nose with him. He was the tallest 3 rd year in school. “Do they know what you are?” he whispered with a wicked grin.

His friends smiled knowingly and a few looked at Lowell in disgust.

Lowell gripped his wand until his knuckles went white. “You didn’t.”

“Family knowledge,” Vince said, still smiling. “I think your friends should know too…”

Lowell grabbed the front of his brother’s robes and shook him violently. “You little -!”

Chris suddenly stood at his elbow. “Lowell… don’t. It’s okay.”

He set Vince down, still wanting to send his brother to the hospital wing with a broken nose.

He didn’t have a chance.

As soon as he let go, Dwyer came up and pushed Lowell out of the way, taking his place to stand toe-to-toe with Vincent. Filbin penned in the 3 rd year from behind.

Lowell noticed they’d sent Vince’s cronies scurrying already, so he was alone among the older students.

Dwyer pushed Vince. “Puffs are the lowest, huh?”

Filbin shoved him from behind right after. “And Chris is no Squib. Seen her wand work? She’s got more power in a misfire than you can pull on purpose!”

“And she could kill you with one well-done potion,” Dwyer added, grabbing hold of Vince’s wand arm so he couldn’t cast.

“If we don’t first,” Filbin hissed, gripping Vince’s shoulder so hard the Slytherin boy whimpered.

Dwyer gave a yank and sent Vince sprawling in a very undignified way while Filbin covered with his wand.

“And you keep off Lowell, you rat,” he growled. “Or you’ll have us and our connections to deal with!”

“How does that sit with you?” Filbin grinned, looking down his wand at him.

Vince’s heart pounded with fear, but his jaw was set and he gambled he could get a spell in before Filbin could disarm him.

Bad luck he was wrong on both counts.

Filbin never planned to disarm him.

As soon as Vince got his wand up, Filbin sent stinging sparks at his feet and legs, then up his robe when he scrambled to get up and away as fast as possible.

Filbin kept firing until Vince was out of sight. “Go on, rat! Run!”

Dwyer turned to Lowell. “You okay?”

Lowell nodded, more amazed at the support than shocked by his typically awful sibling. “Thanks. I could have managed… but thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, we did,” Filbin said.

Chris nodded. “Of course. We’re friends.”

Lowell looked at her. “I’m really sorry for what he said.”

Chris actually smiled. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. Been dealing with that forever. And Filbin’s right. I actually take comfort knowing I can take him, or anyone, with one of my potions.”

Everyone settled down some, and Filbin shook his head as he went back to the fruit bowl. “Chris, that’s creepy.”

“Yeah, but it’s true,” she smiled. “Okay, watch me, Lowell. See how I do?”

Dwyer beckoned him away. “But from a distance, mate. She packs a punch.”


	10. Red and Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020: February
> 
> Don't dawdle when opportunity comes knocking.

McNeil held his class a few minutes after. “One thing by way of news,” he said. “The headmistress has scheduled a ball, to be held last Friday in March.” He whistled shrilly to keep the excited chatter down. “Do you want details or not?!” They settled a little and he continued. “Formal dress,” he said. “Participation is not mandatory, but you’ll be missing a good party. To attend, you must sign up outside the Great Hall. Do NOT list a date BEFORE you ask them. It’s bad form. We’re looking for volunteers to be on committees for decorating, food and drinks, and contests. Check the board for those sign-ups too. Dismissed, and keep it DOWN!”

Filbin beamed. “Decorating committee! That’s for me! Anyone got a break now and want to come check out the board?”

Etienne held Gwen’s arm and called out to the others. “Hang on, Lowell’s behind.”

Chris held Filbin at the door, letting the rest pass. “What’s he doing?”

“Math.”

Lowell shoved his things in his bag. “Thanks for waiting.” He fell in step next to Chris. “Did you want to go? With me?”

She squinted at him, concerned. “Go…? Where? I thought I had remedial transfiguration next…? Where are you going?”

He smiled a little. “To the dance. Did you want to go with me?”

Gwen gasped and yanked Ettie’s sleeve in excitement while struggling not to coach her clueless friend. “Oooooh!”

Chris blinked, still not quite there, but when she did connect the dots she blushed a becoming shade of pink clear up to her blonde curls. “Go with-? Oh. Oh! Wow, you’re quick, aren’t you?” she laughed nervously. “Well, I think – I mean, yes! Yes, that’d be fun, Lowell, thanks!”

“Good,” he said. “Then I’ll go with Filbin and sign us up. What are you doing in transfiguration today?”

“Mainly small to big and back,” she said, trying to get her blush under control.

“Fun.” He was having a tough time with his grin too.

“Be careful with it, Chris,” Filbin said. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go.” As they walked off, he whacked Lowell’s shoulder. “I bet you set a record with that one! Or you could have if you hadn’t waited to play with numbers!”

Chris stood rooted in place, smiling and looking slightly terrified. “Good! Great! Yeah, fine!”

Ettie got an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. We’ll get you to class.”

“What’s wrong, Chris?” Gwen walked on her other side. “You alright?”

Chris giggled, going from flushed to pale. “I-um-I’ve never been asked anywhere, let alone a big party! Ettie, what do I DO?!”

“You keep walking because I’m not carrying you to class,” she replied as Chris’ knees buckled. “You’ve been to my party, remember? Christmas?”

“But with family,” she countered. 

Gwen raised a concerned expression. “You danced with Lowell then too. What’s the problem?”

“I danced with Filbin, Dwyer, Toff, and even Ashe and James once then too, but none of that was a date,” Chris whimpered. “Maybe I should tell him I changed my mind?”

“She’s lost it,” Gwen muttered before giving better advice. “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt his feelings. It’ll be fun, you’ll see!”

“What if he doesn’t think I’m a good date?!”

Dwyer rounded the corner and lit up to see them, particularly Ettie. “Lovely morning, ladies! Etienne, can I have a minute?”

Gwen glared daggers at him. “Not now! Can’t you see Chris is having a girl crisis?!”

Ettie supported Chris as they passed him. “Sorry, Dwy. Maybe later. Kind of busy at the moment.”

“Later like lunch-later? Or later like” – they turned a corner out of sight.

Dwyer swore and kicked the shin of a suit of armor. As soon as he turned to go, the suit kicked his back end, sending him sprawling.

The helmet cackled with laughter as Dwyer scrambled to get back to his feet. “DAMMIT PEEVES!”

*** 

Chris felt better once she and the others met up at lunch.

“If you’re nervous,” Lowell suggested, undeterred by her concerns and willing to listen, “we can join the drinks and food committee? You’d be good at that.”

“Ooo!” she clapped. “Good idea! Are there still spots left?”

“There were when we left it,” Filbin said. “Go get on it, though.”

Chris hurried out to the board, nearly knocking Dwyer over on his way in. 

He made his way to where his friends sat together, Ettie offering her kneazle, Bijou, some flakes of her fish. They noticed the stares and giggles before he did.

“Hey all!” he smiled, about to sit.

“Wait.” Filbin stopped him. “Turn around.”

Dwyer froze. “What? What?!” he whispered urgently. “Is there a bug on me?!”

“We don’t know,” Lowell said. “Just turn.”

He did, slowly, imagining a spider, bee, or wasp may be poised on his back. “Kill it, whatever it is!” he whispered, standing stiff.

Gwen paled. “Oh.”

Filbin chuckled. “Mate, you’re gonna need therapy.”

Lowell weighed his words carefully. “Well… it’s not a bug.”

Across the broad shoulders of his robes, embroidered text scrawled green and silver, spelling out a series of tacky, even lewd Slytherin-centric pick-up lines. There seemed to be no end to them.

Ettie, who both grimaced and blushed at them, collected Bijou and excused herself.

“Wait!” Dwyer looked bewildered as laughter spread through the hall. “What is it? Ettie? What” – he realized from all the pointing he needed to checks his robes for himself. He whipped them off and found the offending charm.

Flooded with embarrassment, and frustration at being foiled again, he immediately looked down the traditionally Gryffindor table.

James Potter and Fred Weasley, two of his roommates, scrambled to get up, launching themselves up over the full table to reach the door before he could catch them.

“Book it, mate!”

“Can’t you take a joke?!”

“Watch it, Fred, he’s got his wand out!”

*** 

At the end of the day, the dance, particularly who asked who, dominated the conversation.

Gwen, Toff, and Fish attempted to comfort Ashe who took a rejection pretty hard.

Gwen hugged his arm. “It’s okay. You can always ask someone else?”

“Or not go?” Fish suggested. “With me?”

Toff was less careful with his view of things. “You asked James Potter. Did you really think he would say yes?”

“I didn’t think he would shut me down that fast!” Ashe snapped, cranky when hurt. “The way he is with the Gryffindor team, I thought for sure he wasn’t straight!”

Gwen patted his head. “Oh Ashe… do you have anyone else to ask?”

“Could I go with you?”

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry… but Giovanni asked me.”

Fish scratched his head. “I thought he liked Rosemary?”

“Rosemary asked me,” Toff said, now also confused. “She asked me right after the announcement.”

Ashe moaned and covered his face. “This school is confusing as hell!”

Further behind them, dragging his feet on his way to dinner, Dwyer was too busy mourning lost opportunities to properly plot revenge against the prank masters of Gryffindor House.

Even while staring at his feet, he nearly missed Bijou staring up at him in the middle of the hall. “Oh… what are you doing down here?”

Etienne rounded a corner and came up to him. “Finding you for me. You okay?”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “No.”

“It’s not like you to let them get to you. Do you want me and Lowell to mess them up for you? We can. I have reasonable cause.”

Dwyer nearly growled. “So, it was Lowell who asked you!”

Etienne laughed. “What? No! He asked Chris.”

He paused. “… … Filbin?”

“Filbin’s more interested in the decoration committee than dates. He’ll leave it to the last second and bring Elfie so she can go. You watch.”

Dwyer stopped and looked at her warily. “So… who asked you?”

She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back coyly. “A few people.”

He frowned, running his hand through his hair like he did when stumped in class. “A few… so. Oh, come on, Ettie, who are you going with?!”

She looked at him expectantly. “I didn’t say I agreed to any of them.” When he didn’t step up to her cue, she sighed and gave it to him more easily. “Look, you’re not getting a better shot at this.”

Dwyer stared, then grinned from ear to ear. “Oh! Really?” He took a breath and stepped up closer. “Ettie?”

“Yes?”

He took her hand, letting her fingers slide over his. “Would you go to the ball with me?”

She smiled. “I would.”

He rolled his eyes a little. “WILL you, though? No bending words.”

She laughed. “Rude. But yes. I will. I’d love to.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but at the same moment he paused to check the hall for lurkers, she did too.

They realized what happened and laughed.

He blushed a little. “You’re worried.”

She pulled his tie so he’d step closer. “You’re paranoid.”

He happily got his arms around her while Bijou kept watch.

*** 

That next morning, Dwyer marched down to the Great Hall whistling a tune no one had heard before. His step was light, his smile wide, and Gwen knew trouble when she saw it, especially when it made her brother do a sprightly heel click on his way to their table.

“Top o’the mornin’ to my favorite sis and my best pals!” he crowed, planting a smacking kiss on Gwen’s cheek before she could beat him off.

“Girroff! You’re in trouble, I can smell it a mile away!” she said, crowding him out of the empty seat next to her.

“Trouble? Trouble sits next to me!” Filbin said, making room. “Come on then, tell us the gaff!” He lowered his voice. “You’re getting them back for yesterday, right? How long were you up last night? How’d you get around them?”

Dwyer waved off his questions and shushed him. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Dwyer said, digging into a hearty breakfast of whatever came to hand. “When’s mail due?”

Chris shrugged. “Soon, I think. Certainly hasn’t been here yet.”

Bets arrived and sat by her brother. “Elfie didn’t want to come down for breakfast,” she said, perplexed. “She asked me to bring her something before class… Thing is, she didn’t seem sick.”

Gwen looked sideways at her brother. “It’s his doing. I know it. Look, just look at the goosepimples on my arm!”

Chris peered closely at her friend’s arm. “Yup. Certified grade-A gooseflesh. So, what?”

“So, Dwyer did something that” –

Dwyer looked up as the owls swooped in. “Mail’s here!” he beamed.

The whole hall stared in wonder at a particularly determined stream of owls headed straight to the Gryffindor table, aimed straight at the heir to the most famous family of the wizarding world. Each owl held a foreboding red envelope.

James Sirius Potter, fast as he could go on a broom, couldn’t run fast enough to avoid being struck and half buried by the howlers. Fred was no help. Like any bestie, he just pointed and laughed so hard he half-choked on a bit of sausage.

Filbin looked at Dwyer and a tiny smile tugged at his lips. “Oh… oh dear.”

Dwyer, his back to the display, loaded his pockets with a couple of pastries for a quick getaway, but his face practically bloomed with anticipation. “It gets better!” he whispered. “You’re gonna love this!”

James attempted to get up, having to sweep the envelopes out of the way as they quickly began to sizzle and smoke. Many students scrambled either to get out of the way or yell for him to just open them and get it over with. When he did grit his teeth and open one, the others were charmed to open themselves at the same moment. 

Each one immediately broke into loud and angry … singing. With lyrics that were both inappropriate and embarrassing, and a tune that was devastatingly catchy, they filled the hall with an ode to every reason James Sirius Potter should be thrown in the lake.

Dwyer’s hummed tune now made sense. 

Potter earned himself a few frienemies with his pranks over the years, and now every last one roared along with the Howlers, once they caught the tune and the chorus. Filbin led their table, pounding his goblet and beaming from ear to ear. 

Chris liked a good prank, though she hadn’t jumped in the deep end like Dwyer had, so she sang along too.

Gwen glared at Dwyer who sang as loud as anybody while getting ready to beat a hasty retreat. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you,” she yelled over the din.

Dwyer, grinning, just bowed and made his exit in style with his robe swept back while he danced along to the decidedly Irish rhythm. 


	11. James Potter vs. The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-2020: November, before the Quidditch Season
> 
> Trouble is stronger than one house.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Trouble is my middle name. Fred’s too, and Gryffindors do trouble better than anyone!’”

Filbin stared at Dwyer in shock. “He didn’t!”

“He did. He’s full of it, and a lot more full of it now than usual.”

Toff stood with them by the lake, bundled up. “Well, let him be full of it. What’s it to us?”

Lowell, in a snippy mood that week, was cold and impatient. “So, put him in his place. And hurry, it smells terrible here.”

“Why yes, I do have a plan, thank you, Lowell,” Dwyer replied with high graciousness. “We’ll need help. I’ve got markers and targets, just need you all to help place them. And we’ll need riders…”

Toff looked up, concerned. “Riders?”

***

Whispers went through the castle, quieting in front of teachers and hushed at the approach of certain 5th year Gryffindors.

Then, one afternoon while Gryffindor had quidditch practice, long white ribbons appeared scattered through the ground and a few in the entrance hall and outer buildings. A loose crowd gathered in the grounds, trying not to look suspicious.

Dwyer led his riders out to the Vusu barn. Gen met them there, all four Vusu saddled and ready.

“Good! They’re all small.” She looked at the riders. “Ready for this?”

Chris (for Hufflepuff), Ashe (for Ravenclaw), Albus Potter (for Slytherin), and Lily Potter (for Gryffindor), nodded though some more confidently than others.

“Chris, you’re on Duke,” Gen said. “He likes you.”

Duke wore a yellow Hufflepuff scarf while the other yellow hens wore the other house colors.

Albus and Lily needed a boost, but Chess swung up onto her bird with flair. “Ready to do this!”

Gen shoved her friend so the excited hen wouldn’t step on her feet. “Not til we say go!”

Duke got down for Chris to get on and hopped up with excited chirps, pecking at his scarf and looking back at her.

“Yes,” she giggled, “you look very nice in it.”

Dwyer met them at the door. “Alright contestants,” he said, “the objective is to, first, do your House proud by collecting as many white markers as possible. Second, avoid capture by authority figures. Third, take every chance to make James Potter look dumb as a sack of rocks!”

Albus grinned and threw his hands up. “Woohoo!” Lily just giggled.

“Woohoo is right!” Dwyer grinned. “That’s the spirit! Now, there’s tons of markers, so they’re all over! When you hear the firecracker, ditch your ride and get Filbin your final tally. Got it?”

Chess’ bird danced eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, let’s do this!”

Dwyer shouted go and Camilla took an early lead. The crowd cheered and four blurs of chaos on two legs tore through campus, inside and out.

Vusu, as noted in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, are excellent racers as long as they remain in a flock.

The four renegade riders used every trick they had to get them to turn, but the birds scattered the crowd anyway and only broke formation smack in the middle of people.

Chess whistled her Vusu toward a clear line of ribbons along the edge of the forest, whipping her wand out to start collecting.

Albus’ hen misstepped and fell, eyes wild and clucking in confusion. “Come on, girl!” he shouted, clinging to her saddle. “Come on! We can do it! Hiya!”

The hen heaved herself back up, shook herself off, and both she and Albus raced toward the Quidditch pitch.

Chris and Lily couldn’t convince their Vusu to break off and the two birds pounded toward the castle like they could see a finish line.

Both girls screamed with both terror and adrenaline.

They reached the stone path into the castle and either bird slowed. Duke squawked and continued forward, but Lily’s hen took a sharp turn toward the lae that nearly unseated her.

Chris seized the chance to snatch the white markers on the bridge and was excited to find more in the entrance hall.

A few students cheered her on and laughed at seeing a massive Vusu in the castle.

“Get the big one!” Bets shouted from her lookout post in a stairwell.

Chris followed her finger as she pointed to a clumsily painted banner above the doors to the Great Hall. In white, backed by alternating stripes in all house colors, it read “First ever inter-house Vusu race! +200 points”.

Chris fumbled to grab her wand, knowing if any teacher came on this scene she’d be in more trouble than she’d ever dreamed possible.

Duke, however, already heard Bets’ command.

Chris never reached her wand. She grabbed hold of the saddle just in time.

Duke took a running start, leapt against a side wall, pushed himself off the other wall, and just barely caught the banner in his beak.

His landing was less than graceful, but he was dashing back out the hall in two long leaps, their prize clutched in his large beak.

Exhilarated, Chris clung on and turned him at the end of the path. “Come on, Duke! Let’s go around the back! We have a head start now!”

He took off eagerly, like a blue-feathered bullet.

They passed Hagrid in a blur. While he knew he should stop them, or even call for support from the castle, the sight of Duke so happily sprinting at full tilt with a rider so excited the game keeper, he dropped the wood he was carrying and cheered.

“Go on, boy, run! Run like the chap you are! Woooo!”

The sound of Quidditch practice, and the structure of the pitch, largely drowned out the distant cheering.

McGonagall watched practice, as she usually did, but this time Neville joined her to show support for the coming games season.

“The decoration is coming on nicely,” she said. “The white ribbons are nice, but they should really be fixed more securely…”

Professor Longbottom observed the loosely tied markers skeptically. “Not sure what they are, actually… they must be recent.”

While they considered, each marker flew off their posts in quick succession, one whacking James in the face on the way down so he nearly collided with Camilla, the keeper.

“Look out!”

He corrected quickly enough to make it safely through a goal post and whipped back around to find the culprit.

Far down on the field, Albus, his hen festooned with white markers, called up. “James Potter is a toad-faced blowhard! Slytherin scooooores!”

His hen, thinking he made a fine yell, joined in with her grating trumpet call, amplified in the stadium so everyone inside winced and covered their ears.

By the time they looked back down, a slightly deafened Albus whirled his mount around and was on his way through the tunnel.

Filbin caught him just outside. “Nice one! Bonus points for that! But McGonagall is in there.”

Albus paled instantly. “Oh shit!”

Filbin helped him down and turned the hen loose. “She’ll head back to the barn with the others. We’ll count the tally later. Go on, gun it, mate!”

Once Albus was good and on his way, Filbin ran around to the opposite entrance and lit the firecracker signal.

The Gryffindor team was just making the outside of the tunnel when they blew.

James squinted to see.

Emblazoned in some of Weasleys’ best sparklers were a lion’s head with James’ glasses and four rockets in red, green, blue, and yellow blowing him up.

“What the hell?”

Fred grinned. “That’ll be Dwyer. Well, Filbin, probably. You shouldn’t have bragged like that.”

Camilla cocked her head. “But… what about the Slytherin kid?”

Once the crackers finished, they heard the cheers and saw the students hurrying back to where they belonged from all across the grounds.

Two Vusu, still in their House colors and white markers, but now rider-less, rumbled past them just as McGonagall made the door.

They team watched for her reaction.

She watched the Vusu run back toward the barn, high-stepping and chirping to one another. “Neville, dear,” she said wearily, “I do believe we’ve missed the excitement. Alert McNeil, he’ll have those responsible in detention by this evening.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mr. Wood,” she said, “take me back to my office.” While Saorise Wood set his things aside, she looked at James accusingly. “I expect to hear what you’ve done to offend the whole school, Mr. Potter.” She paused before walking off. “You have until tonight to attempt a plausible story.”

***

Four days later, Filbin and Dwyer sleepily bottled the indigestion and headache remedies they’d been brewing since before dawn. Matron came to inspect their work.

“Very good, boys,” she smiled. “I appreciate the help. I guess you can go and get your breakfast a little early. I’ll make sure to tell Professor McNeil you’ve finished your detention assignment as ordered.”

Dwyer yawned through his thanks and Filbin steered him out.

“That’ll be the last one, then,” he said, pleased though tired.

“Four days isn’t bad for all that,” Dwyer agreed. “Just glad they never caught our racers. Lowell and Toff did really well with that. Lowell especially. He’s promisingly sneaky.” He chuckled. “That cracker was a nice touch. How’d you get it so precise?”

“Special order from the head Weasley himself,” Filbin winked. “He laughed for a solid minute before he said he’d put it on a rush order for us. Pretty great, huh?”

While he and Dwyer chuckled at having Fred’s own father contribute to their tricks, Filbin suddenly twitched.

“Dwyer…” he said, uncomfortable. “Something isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on it. You feel it?”

Dwyer stopped and was staring at one of the large paintings in the hall. “I don’t have to feel it,” he said. “I’m looking at it!”

Filbin joined him, staring up at the portrait of Headmaster Dumbledore – once a perfect rendition – now colored exclusively in shades of red and gold.

The figure, apparently very pleased with the makeover, gave a peace sign and chuckled. “Go Gryffindor!”

Filbin looked down the hall. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “He’s done them all!”

He and Dwyer passed several students and teachers obsessed with the sudden wash of red and gold in every frame, and the paintings reveled in the attention.

“Sure it’s clever,” Filbin admitted on their way to breakfast, “but it’s just another stunt without a point. He wants a bigger cheering section for the match next week, that’s all.”

“Maybe.” Dwyer wasn’t convinced. “He’s been way too nice to me the last few days. I know he’s had something going on, I just expected it to be a bit more” –

Filbin froze just inside the Great Hall and pointed to the wall hangings. “More like that?”

Dwyer looked too. “… Yeah, that’s a bit more like it.”

Every banner, particularly the large ones for each house, were a bright Irish green. Front and center on each was a cartoon-y seal in a Leprechaun hat proclaiming, “James Potter is my hero!” in sparkling letters.

Dwyer lowered his gaze from the walls to find his roommates strutting over.

“How d’you like the makeover?” James grinned.

“You’ve been busy,” he replied coolly. “Didn’t know you were so artistic… or was that you?” He looked around James to Fred.

“Team effort!” Fred grinned. “Oh, and nice one with the fancy sparklers, ‘Bins old boy! I’ll never live it down.”

Filbin smiled back, pleased as punch. “What are families for without embarrassing stories to tell?”

Dwyer, while seething about the cartoon, took a breath. “Well… well played. Still, this was about the school having more to its mischief than just Gryffindors. Than just you. We made our point, I think.”

James chuckled, his hands comfortably in his pockets. “Well… answer me this. Whose house colors is the school wearing this morning?” He waited for the answer, but Dwyer wouldn’t give it. “Anyway, real good move with the race. We should do it again sometime. Come on, Fred, I’m hungry.”

Dwyer let them walk off before grimacing. “He’s not worth it.”

“But Gryffindor is,” Filbin replied with a little smile. “Up for one more? I mean, not at him, but… everybody?”

Dwyer trudged to their table where Gwen, Chris, and the others waited. “Nah, we shouldn’t sink to his level.”

“Who’s sinking? And I had more colors in mind than just one.”

Dwyer paused. “…I’m listening.”

Under Filbin’s direction, Chris got busy brewing right after breakfast.

One by one, vials made it to Dwyer, Filbin, Toff, and Lowell, and were carefully stored until the night before the first match of the season – Slytherin vs. Griffindor.

***

Hogwarts in the early morning bustled with house elves, cats prowling corridors, the whisper of owls’ wings, and the occasional croaking song of a pet toad.

In each corner of the castle, baths filled, showers ran, and enterprising members of each house hurried to get in before lines formed.

That morning, however, a wail went up. Whispers and shouts pulled the house heads from their own morning routines to see what the matter was.

Dwyer came to breakfast, his skin striped with green and silver. He high-fived Filbin, whose skin was blue and bronze. “Looking good, friend!”

“Not bad yourself, mate!” Filbin chuckled.

Dwyer looked around at the filling hall, every student who used house bathrooms that morning showing off their rival house’s colors. “My, aren’t we all so sporting today!”

Chris, Gwen, and Toff compared colors while Toff described his house’s reaction to the sabotage. “They had the potion pegged right off,” he said, “but the stripes threw them. Awfully clever, that.”

Chris giggled, her blush hidden by the blue and bronze. “Thank you! I’m quite pleased with how it played out.”

“Stars were good for it too,” Toff agreed.

Lowell and Etienne arrived, later as usual. While he was smiling contentedly in red and gold from head to toe, only Ettie’s face was colored.

“Guess you weren’t awake enough to shower?” Gwen giggled.

Ettie grumbled and got herself some coffee.

The hall fell into a hush as James and the Gryffindor team walked with as much dignity as they could muster to their table, every one of them green and silver under their robes.

The tension rose until little Albus stood on his bench, his face red and gold, and yelled over everyone’s heads. “Go get ‘em, Gryffindor!”

An answering yell, suspiciously like Rose Weasley’s, shouted back, “Take ‘em down, Snakes!”

Even James cracked a smile as the hall finally found the humor in it. Though the Quidditch match that evening was rather confusing.


	12. Friduwulf's Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-20: December
> 
> Friends, pack, same deal.

Snowfall in December, the fresh kind good for snowballs, snowmen, and sleighing, meant all available time before dark was spent bundled up outside.

Chris, however, didn’t join her friends. She rejoined them late in the evening, just in time for hot cocoa in the common room.

The house elf Tippa, in her school smock, ensured Chris got a cup piled high with whipped cream.

“Oh, that’ll be just the ticket!” Chris beamed, taking it. “Thanks!

“Miss Dobbs should not be out after hours this way,” the elf said, going back to stirring the cocoa.

“It’s okay,” Chris said, sitting by Elfie in the crowded space. “I was with Professor Brasher for a special lesson.”

The conversation of the room was at a lovely active hum, so only her close friends heard.

Filbin wiped his mouth after draining his cup. “What for? You don’t need remedial potions you’re better at that than anyone.”

“Oh, no,” Chris said, enjoying a mouthful of cream and cocoa. “He’s letting me watch while he makes a whole lot of Werewolf Juice.”

Gen, Filbin, and Tippa froze and stared at her.

“He’s brewing wolfsbane potion,” Filbin repeated in a low whisper.

“Yeah, it’s really neat,” Chris said, oblivious to their discomfort or, in Gen’s case, fascination. “the sky was clear tonight, so we gathered the moonlight for the potion.”

“That means,” Tippa said, her voice squeaky with fear, “there is a werewolf here at Hogwarts!”

Elfie, sipping her cocoa one careful spoonful at a time, nodded. “Uh, huh. But just one.”

“Well, who is it?!” Filbin asked and immediately regretted it when Gwen struck him with a pillow.

“How dare you! Whoever it is, that’s their business, no yours!”

Elfie stirred her cup. “Yeah. Don’t worry, Tippa. He’s nice, and real good about taking his medicine.”

Gen sat forward eagerly. “So, how’s the potion? I didn’t know Brasher could do it!”

Chris smiled eagerly. ‘It’s really neat to watch! He’s real good. Did you know the moonlight is an actual ingredient? You have to catch it in the nectar of a bloomed corpse flower. Everything’s in real tiny amounts, so its all in a matrix of desalinated sea water gathered under the LAST full moon!”

Gen thought a minute. “Full moon is the 12th. Will it be done in time?”

“This is his 2nd batch,” Chris explained. “It should take one more after this for the full treatment.”

“Isn’t Miss Dobbs afraid?” Tippa asked, still nervous while filling Filbin’s cup again.

“Not with the medicine around,” Chris replied, full of confidence.

“Kind of sad they can’t get home before the moon,” Gwen said. “It’s bad enough to go through that without being away from family.”

“That reminds me,” Filbin smiled. “We’ve got to get everybody’s plans for the break, see if we’ll overlap any!”

When they met up the next afternoon, Ettie had good news.

“My mum has a party every year,” she said. “She’s a fan of any reason to invite people over. Plus, it’s a new house – just our second year there – so we’ve got all your families on the guest list. If you’ll all come, of course.”

Gwen was in awe. “You… You invited our family?” She looked at Dwyer. “Will mum even come?”

“For us, she will,” he replied. “Wow… wouldn’t that be something!”

“Sounds like a great time,” Filbin agreed. “Count me in. How about you, Chris?”

She was preoccupied watching Lowell make what had to be the largest, most meat-filled sandwich she’d ever seen. It just kept getting bigger.

He noticed her watching and gave her a grumpy look. “What?”

She blushed. “Um. Did you want some greens on that or something?”

“Nope.” He shut his sandwich with the other piece of bread and hefted the awkwardly large thing to take a massive bite.

Chris, sure he must have had to unhinge his jaw for that, just carefully slid a jar of good mustard his way before refocusing on Filbin. “What was that?”

“Etienne’s party,” he repeated, while Lowell slapped a spoonful of mustard on for his next bite. “Is your family coming?”

“Oh, sure!” she agreed. “Couldn’t keep me away.”

Etienne smiled. “Oh good! But, I warn you, my mum invites everyone. The Potters and Weasleys will be there too. Even Mr. Malfoy, I think. I know that one for sure. She and dad helped when he lost his wife.”

“Scorpius is a good kid,” Bets said, sipping her drink. “It’ll be fun having him there.”

Dwyer nudged Lowell. “You coming?”

“Not invited,” he grumbled around his sandwich.

“That’s not true,” Etienne said, confused and hurt. “You were on my list!”

He looked at her with hurt disdain, putting down the rest of his lunch. “Not the party. Home.” He got up, pushed Dwyer out of his way while getting off the bench. “I’ve got somewhere to be,” he said, avoiding their eyes and ignoring their protests on his way out.

They all looked at each other.

“What’d he mean, not invited home?” Gwen asked, saddened at the idea.

Etienne got up. “I’m going to talk to him. I know you’ll want to come to, but please don’t. Okay?”

“You can’t tell us what to do,” Dwyer said.

“We want to help,” Chris agreed.

She thought a moment. “Fine. But if you really want to help, make him something chocolate. A cake or a tart or something. That would be a big help.”

Chris got up. “Got it! Bake chocolate for grumpy Lowell! Elfie, want to help? We can go ask Tippa for supplies.”

Elfie clapped and got up too. “Yes!”

***

After a full day of classes, both Lowell and Etienne joined them at dinner a bit late.

Lowell took a second before sitting to apologize. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, looking more tired than grumpy, and still very far from his usually calm self.

That eased Filbin’s concerns and he made room for his friend. “Hey, we’re all off sometimes.”

“And don’t worry about the holidays,” Etienne told them, sitting too. “He’s staying at my house.”

Chris smiled, excited. “That’s great! We can all enjoy the party together. And, Lowell, Elfie and I made you this. Thought it would help.”

Elfie set a lovely chocolate tart in front of him. “Tada! Happy chocolate day!”

Even in his poor mood, Lowell smiled at that. “That’s really nice. Thank you.”

Chris caught a whiff of a familiar scent on his breath and she had to take a moment to figure out what it was.

He cut himself a generous slice and ate half of it in one bite, melting onto the table in bliss. “Ooooh… that is good…”

“Lowell?” she asked quietly. “Are-… Is-…  … Why does your breath smell like wolfsbane potion?”

He stopped chewing, still leaning on the table.

It took the others a moment to notice the awkward silence and recall what caused it.

By then, Lowell swallowed and sat up, reluctant to look at any of them. He did look at Ettie who shook her head.

“I’m not answering that for you,” she said.

Gwen reached over to touch his hand. “Do you have lycanthropy?”

Hearing that instead of ‘are you a werewolf’ helped, and he cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Filbin looked at him, concerned. “Why didn’t you say sooner?”

He was about to say something snarky, but Dwyer beat him to it.

“Why would anyone tell people that unless they have to?” Dwyer said. He looked at Lowell. “Don’t mind him. We all want to help. Just… I mean, you could have let us help with the last one?”

“Madam Longbottom is actually really helpful,” he said, cutting another slice of his tart. “We’ve got this whole thing down to a science after all this time. They’ve even got a safe place for me to hole up until it’s over.” He munched another large bite of chocolate tart. “And I haven’t missed a dose of the potion. Ever.”

“Still,” Chris was unconvinced everything was fine, “going off to get away from people when you’re sick doesn’t feel right.”

Toff, having listened quietly this whole time, spoke up. “If you want company, I can come too? I’m an Animagus, so even if things go wrong, it’d be fine.”

The friends fell silent and stared at him.

“And I’m an owl,” he said, unconcerned, “so late nights aren’t an issue.”

Filbin threw a dinner roll at him. “You can turn into an owl and you never told me?!”

Toff caught it. “My uncle mentored me. Besides, it was last year I did it. I didn’t think it was a big deal – I just wanted a way to stargaze without problems or people bugging me.”

“Gen is one too,” Gwen offered. “Not an owl, though. I’ll bet she knows a lot about lycanthropy. She could come with us.”

“Us?” Lowell blinked, confused.

“Well, Gwen and I are helping too,” Dwyer said. “If things get weird, we can take seal form. Easy peasy.”

“Look,” he said, around another bit, “I don’t need to be babysat. I sleep most of the time out there. It’s not some sleepover party.”

“But it could be?” Filbin said, smiling.

“They’re not going to let you all into a room with a werewolf,” he said, harsher than he intended. “They can’t even let me stay on campus, even with all my dosage logged and confirmed.”

Toff disagreed. “You’d be no danger to me, Gwen, or Dwyer.”

“You’re no danger to anybody,” Elfie piped up. “Really.”

Lowell gave Elfie some of the tart while he thought it over. “Look, if you’re determined to get involved, you have to sort it with Madam Longbottom, okay? I’m not going to be responsible for the risk.”

“Done!” Dwyer thumped the table triumphantly.

***

The evening of the 12th, Lowell took his last dose of the wolfsbane potion, bundled up in his coat, and followed Madam and Professor Longbottom out of the hospital wing.

The Connolly twins, Toff, and Gen waited in the hall.

“You got permission?” Lowell asked, surprised.

“Ms. Drake has first aid clearance and experience with creature care,” Madam Longbottom explained. “And, as long as your friends stay in animal form until after you transform, they’re welcome to accompany you.”

“If,” the professor said, “you want them along?”

Lowell looked at the eager and sympathetic faces of his friends. “It isn’t pretty,” he warned.

“All the better reason not to be alone,” Gwen insisted.

“Are we going or what?” Dwyer said. “If we wait much longer, they moon will be out.”

Lowell considered it for a beat, then buttoned his coat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Professor Longbottom led them through the snow to the Whomping Willow, ducked in to touch a trigger, then led the group through a twisting tunnel.

“Where’s the safehouse?” Gen asked, as they walked by wand light.

“Hogsmeade,” the professor replied. “Old place, but it’s been made up well for things like this. Lowell is far from Hogwarts’ first student to have this.”

Gwen grinned. “Oh good! Can we get breakfast there tomorrow?”

Madam Longbottom smiled at Gwen’s enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, we’ve seen to things. It’s better not to let the town know we’re there.”

They made it into a little house, old but cozy and well-kept.

At a word from the professor, who searched the place to make sure it was secure and empty, Matron let them into a bedroom.

“The moon is up, children,” she said, “so change forms now. Gen, pull that rope there to open the skylight. We’d rather be in control of the exposure than wonder when the light will hit the windows.”

Lowell took off his coat, gloves, and shows. “And keep your distance,” he said, nervous. “I… thrash some.”

While matron moved furniture out of the way and the professor checked the door lock, Gwen hurried over and hugged Lowell. She was only as tall as his shoulder, so she tried to make up for it by squeezing real hard.

“It’ll be okay. We’re not going anywhere,” she said.

Lowell, unsure what to do with that, let her try and squeeze the air out of him. He finally patted her head. “Thanks, Gwen. Really.”

She let him go. “Anytime. Ready, Dwy?”

The two of them took their seal forms and scooted to an out of the way corner behind the bed.

Toff calmly changed to his owl form, a common owl with dark feathers around his eyes like his glasses. He twittered to the seals in the common terms of animals. “Y’know, Ashe might have come. He can turn into a cat.”

Dwyer slapped the floor angrily and barked at him. “Dammit, Toff! You ought to tell me these things sooner! We could have used that!”

Toff puffed his feathers out and hissed. “Well, it’s hardly your right to know, is it? Go look up the register yourself if you’re so interested!”

Lowell, currently not able to understand, shouted over them. “Hey! If you’re gonna fight, bugger off, the pair of you!”

The two boys, or seal and owl, settled down, looking away.

Lowell nodded to Gen. “I’m ready.”

She shifted form, becoming a handsome borzoi dog, and took the window cord in her mouth. With a tug, the skylight opened, and Lowell immediately began to change.

He hunched over like his gut was suddenly in intense pain. They could see his jaw clench down hard as violent seizures raked his body with increasing frequency.

He dropped to his knees, sweat pouring off him and veins standing out across his face and limbs. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his fingers grasped for a hold on the wood floor. A froth built around the corners of his mouth.

Gen, the only one not hiding behind the bed, barked at him. “Lowell! Lowell, breathe! Remember to breathe!”

He worked hard to open his mouth, even as his limbs cracked and contorted. As soon as he got his mouth open, however, he screamed in pain, the tortured sound only broken by a choking gasp for air.

The transformation half done, he stood more like a wolf. He thrashed around the room, whining and howling between the sickening crunch and grind of bones and muscle contorting under the skin.

After minutes that felt like hours, he trembled on all four paws, panting with his wolf head hung low.

Gwen sniffed the air, worried. “Did it work? Is he in there?”

Gen, far more confident than any of the younger ones, padded up to him and touched his dry nose with hers. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, laying down where he was with a heavy exhausted sigh. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He looked at his friends grouped in the corner – Toff on the bed post – apologetically. “I told you it wasn’t pretty.”

Gwen scooted over to be by him now he was calm. “Well, neither is Dwy when he’s eating clams. We’ve all got ugly times.”

“Hey!”

Gwen ignored her brother. “It’s getting awfully dry in here. Is it safe to change back?”

“Yeah,” Lowell yawned. “Potion worked. Again. I’ve still got my head.”

“Okay.” Gwen shifted back. “Cuz seals without water is a little uncomfortable.”

Dwyer changed back too, sitting by his friend. “Yeah. So, is this why you’re not going to your house for the holidays?”

“If refusing me a home wasn’t illegal,” Lowell replied with a snort, “I wouldn’t be welcome home ever.”

While the selkies couldn’t get his exact meaning while not in seal form, the gist was clear enough. “Sorry,” Dwyer said. “I get the picture.”

“We’ll be together a lot,” Gwen said, snuggling up by her brother and Lowell. “You’ll have a better holiday than any you’ve ever had. Promise!”

Gen, still in her dog form, lay down next to Lowell. “He’s asleep. We should be too. Take the bed if you want. I’m goo here.” She lay her head next to his and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, the Longbottoms joined them, stoking the fire and keeping watch.

***

When they came back, their friends waited for them in the snow by the door – Elfie looking like she was wrapped in a thick bearskin rug.

She stumbled a bit in her run out to greet them but picked herself back up in time to hug Lowell tight.

“Oof!” he chuckled, wincing. “Thanks, Elfie. I’m still a little sore.”

“And hungry,” she said, matter-of-factly. She took his hand. “Come on. Chris made a special breakfast for us. Lotsa good stuff and hot chocolate! The thick kind!”

“My favorite,” he said, and let her lead the group back.

He brightened up to his usual self over the next few days. By the time they all waved goodbye at the train platform to leave with their families, the parting was made easier knowing they’d come together again in a few days at the Archambeau chateau.

While Etienne said her goodbyes to the Connolly’s, Lowell waited, watching his brother Vincent cross the platform to their father by the family car. It was too far distant to see whether Mr. Friduwulf looked for his older son, but one thing was sure – when he and Vincent left, he didn’t look back.

“Lowell?”

He turned to see a lovely woman in a white fur coat and a tall, elegant man smiling at him. “Yes?”

The man offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Fernand. And this is my wife, Sylviane. Our Ettie thinks very highly of you.”

Lowell accepted his hand and shook it, smiling a little. “Thank you. She’s a very good friend…”

Sylviane Archambeau waved over Lowell’s shoulder. “Ettie! Ettie, come along! Where are your bags?”

Fernand looked at Lowell. “And your things?”

“With Etienne’s,” he said. He followed them to the car and joined Etienne in the back seat, sitting back and soaking in the family banter, feeling more comfortable and excited about the holidays than he had felt in years.

 


	13. Thieves in Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts 2019-20; Spring.
> 
> Not all villains wear green.

Toff and Ashe hurried out to the Vusu barn to meet the Puffs for Care of Magical Creatures.

The class wasn’t one anyone wanted to miss since the Vusu hens laid eggs.

“Did they hatch yet?” Ashe huffed, struggling to catch his breath.

Hagrid, keeping watch from the safe distance of the gate, turned, surprised. “What’re you two doin’ here so early?”

“Somebody swiped our herbology project,” Toff said, better off than Ashe. He climbed the astronomy tower as well as Ravenclaw tower at least once a day. “Shame too… it was about to flower.”

“That your incendi bush?” Hagrid asked, looking disappointed. “Aw what a pity.”

“That’s okay,” Ashe said dismissively. “Half our year is growing them. Kitchens will be spicy for ages with all the peppers they’ll grow. So,” he leaned on the fenced pen to get a better look at the sitting hen. “Any movement?”

“First little bloke has been rockin’,” the gamekeeper said excitedly, “but the other two been quiet. They’re a few days behind, so that’d be normal.”

Gwen and Filbin arrived with their 5th year housemates and the Ravenclaw students.

“Hey Ashe, Toff,” Gwen said, squeezing between them at the pen. “Good news?”

“Yeah, but no hatching yet,” Toff said.

Hagrid shushed the group and did a rough head count. “We all here? Who ain’t here?”

“Chris,” Filbin replied. “She ate some weird weed this morning in class.”

The other students laughed and Hagrid shoot his head. “Girl don’t know poison from candy. She alright?”

“Matron said she’s there for stomach ache,” Filbin explained. “But Chris is fine. Says it tasted like peaches!”

Hagrid had to shush them again. “There now, that’s enough. If she’s the only one missin’, let’s get started. A’fore we get back t’the books for wand cores, let’s do an egg check.”

He led them around behind the barn to the wall behind the nesting box.

“Got yer wands ready?” he cautioned. “Closer the eggs get to hatchin’, the tougher these big mamas get. An’ the big man, Duke, is even worse.”

Several of them had cause over the last couple weeks to immobilize or stun one or more of the adult Vusu. They stood at the ready while Hagrid opened the little hatch to allow them to take a peek at the three massive eggs just visible when the lead hen shifted on the nest.

One egg wiggled and another shifted ever so slightly.

They quietly closed the hatch, and just in time. The sitting hen heard them move and screamed at the hatch. They heard her scratching at the wall with her massive claws while the other two hens and Duke came running, feathers up and flared, beaks clacking, so they looked larger and more terrifying than usual. Tough for birds taller than Hagrid.

Filbin grinned, loving the brush with danger. “Wouldn’t want to get caught by one of them! Bloody hell… There’d be nothing left of you!”

“Ain’t no jokin’ matter,” Hagrid agreed. “And those babies are one of the sweetest things what comes into this world. Their mamas got good reason t’keep em safe.”

“Says the guy that thinks dragons are like puppies,” Ashe whispered to Toff.

Gwen, who overheard him, walked with him while the class followed Hagrid to the tables for his lecture. “He’s right, though, at least about the chicks. Gen’s got baby pictures of Duke!”

Toff looked over his shoulder at the nearly 10 ft tall blue Vusu male. “Hard to imagine him small.”

***

Late that evening, while Hagrid shook the feed bags for the Vusu birds’ dinner bell, Julian Strange, Gryffindor 7th year, huddled by the egg hatch.

When the big mother bird stood up to eat and drink on her one break, he floated one of the large eggs out of the nest and into a carpet bag. He wasted no time getting out of there.

The noise the hen made was ungodly. Hagrid barely dodged a slash of her beak, and the others cornered him, stampeding to her aide.

“Back now! Keep back! I don’t wanna hurt ya!” he shouted, looking desperately for an escape.

His umbrella outside the pen, he made do with the feed bucket. He struck Duke with it on his next attack and bought just enough time to throw himself out of the tall pen.

Duke leapt the fence with no effort at all, screeching bloody murder with the hens right behind him.

Hagrid got hold of his umbrella and stunned them just to get room enough to get out of and secure the barn doors.

Without hesitation, he ran to the school for back up against the enraged birds.

***

The whole castle speculated on the case. It was clear an egg was stolen and the staff was taking it very seriously.

Breakfast, though sat out, was untouched. The headmistress addressed them from the high table.

“There is a thief among us,” she said, peering at them severely through her small glasses. “Among other things, one of the Vusu eggs has vanished. It is due to hatch at any time and should be with the flock which I remind you all, is only on loan to us

“We will find the culprit,” she said with all confidence. “However, punishment will be more tolerable if the egg is returned by noon today. We will take a confession into account as well, but only if the egg is returned safely to our gamekeeper or Professor McNeil.”

“And no one,” she said, firmly, “is to go near the Vusu barn. No exceptions. The search for the egg is ongoing and dorms will be searched if necessary. I encourage you to go to your House Head if you have any information regarding this or other thefts.” She sighed unhappily, looking over the nervous student body. “That is all. Let us proceed with the meal.”

Strange listened to the gossip, particularly when it was clear most believed this was a prank gone wrong by James and Fred. No one believed Dwyer or Filbin would be so reckless with a creature.

He left the table while James made his denials.

Gryffindor Prefect, Krystal Monarch, excused herself and followed him.

He strolled slowly through the main hall, allowing her to catch up. “Not hungry?” he asked.

“Well, not for that,” she replied. She tucked herself under his arm and slid her hand behind him under his robe to rest her hand in his back pocket. “Where are you off to?” she asked as he rested his arm around her shoulders.

“If I show you something,” he said, “I’m going to need you to swear you won’t tell.”

She hesitated, smiling nervously. “Well, what is it?”

He took his wand out and traced the tip of it against her neck, digging in slightly so it left a red trail on her skin. “Swear,” he hissed in her ear.

She winced at the scrape, but it still sent shivers through her. “I swear I won’t tell.”

“Good.” He put his wand away and gave her a little patronizing peck on her head. He held her shoulders and steered her outside.

Strange brought her to the tool closet in the greenhouse, a walled off portion where the potions classes put projects requiring days or weeks to brew and where they kept more specialized tools and dark-loving plants.

He lit the lamp and shut the door behind them. “Well?” he smiled. “What do you see?”

She figured he didn’t mean it was a prime place for a snog, so she looked around. “Some potions projects… weird plants… trowels?”

He bent her arm back behind her and took her chin in his hand, turning her face to a corner. “Look!” he growled triumphantly in her ear. “Really really look!”

She stared, but it was difficult to get her eyes to stay on the spot. Her stomach turned, and she felt sick, queasy like she did on boats. She fought his grip. “Julian, stop!”

“Can’t you see it?” he laughed, holding her firmly, even tightening his grip. “I reversed a perceptus charm. You feeling it now? Can’t even look if you wanted t”-

A chirp sounded from the corner.

Suddenly the charm broke and Krystal saw an incendi pepper bush with the shell of an egg and a chick (mostly beak, awkwardly large legs, and big eyes) sitting in the middle of it all.

It chirped again and cocked its head curiously… which toppled it over.

Strange let Krystal go. “It hatched?! It can’t hatch! Not now!”

“You stole it!” she said, incredulous. “Julian, this is big. I can cover for some things, but this – this has the whole school on alert! How did you expect to” –

“I found a buyer for it,” he snapped. “Now the deal’s sunk! He can’t smuggle a chick. Now shut up and let me think!”

Krystal helped the chick right itself. “The incendi bush was clever? It’s nice and warm…”

He ignored her, raking his brain for a way out of the mess he made. Finally, he picked up a shovel. “Get out of the way,” he growled.

She paled and hugged the newly hatched chick. “You can’t kill it!”

“Why not?” he said, livid and looking for something to take it out on. “Kill it, bury the evidence, they’ll never be the wiser!”

Krystal thought quickly. “Copper! The laelaps! If no one turns in the egg by noon, they’re sure to set her on the trail. They’ll find it, dead or alive. Dead will mean legal charges for sure!”

He threw the shovel away. “Fine. If you’re so smart, what do we do?”

He knew better than to suggest turning in. “Maybe… well, what if we return it to the barn?” She warmed to the idea. “Everybody’s been told to keep away, so that’ll buy us some time! It might even make it look like the egg was never gone? Hagrid’s been mistaken before, so it’s not too big a leap.”

Strange considered it and nodded. “Done. Give it to me.”

She held the chirping chick which was already half dry and getting fluffier, closer and away from him. “I’ll do it. I can get over there without people watching me like they would you.” She tried not to show her concern he’d go with his first plan as soon as she handed it over.

He nodded. “Okay, but remember you swore. If you’re caught, it’s on you.” He turned to go. “Wait awhile before leaving. We can’t be seen together.” He slammed the door on his way out.

Krystal relaxed and smiled at the chick. “Sorry about him,” she whispered, tickling it. “He’s not too smart sometimes.”

The chick, about the size of a lap dog, laid his head trustingly on her chest and promptly fell asleep.

***

Gen, furious about the theft and equally anxious for the egg’s wellbeing, took serious convincing to hold Copper back until the thief had good chance to confess.

Krystal counted on it. She slipped the chick in the carpet bag Strange left in the closet. She waited until even the stragglers headed inside to lunch before leaving the greenhouse.

She made it to the back of the Vusu barn more easily than she thought. Everyone gave it a wide berth. All the adult birds were trumpeting and rattling every entrance, and they’d been at it all morning.

Krystal tried to quiet the chick which was struggling to get out of the bag and squealing in reply to the adults’ calls. “Sh! I know, I know. We’re getting you home, don’t worry!”

She found the nesting box door and froze.

A large and likely charmed padlock secured it closed, obviously a measure against losing the other two eggs.

Before she had a chance to work through her next move, noon arrived.

The laelaps’ howl, the eerie piercing hunting cry carried throughout the extensive campus.

Krystal paled and left the bag, taking off around the back of the castle to get as far from the barn as possible before the dog was loosed.

The chick was only alone for a moment.

When Gen, Hagrid, and McNeil caught up with Copper, the dog was sniffing the chick all over while it cheeped hungrily.

“It hatched!” Hagrid said, excited. “Would ya lookit that? An not even a stone’s throw from its mum!”

Gen gave Copper a treat and scooped up the chick. “Come on, let’s put it back before it gets too cold.” She frowned, frustrated. “I hoped we’d find who did it.”

“We’re not giving up on that,” McNeil assured her. “You take care of the wee one. I’ll set Copper on the thief.”

***

That evening, even after Copper’s second hunt was done, the school was far from settled.

McNeil told her to find the thief, and as there were two she found the last one to have the stolen goods.

Krystal explained she’d found the chick in the tool closet and attempted to return it to the barn, not wanting to be thought the thief.

McNeil and Hagrid, with help, kept up their search for clues as dusk fell.

Filbin, Chris, Gwen, and Dwyer sat talking about the theft when Etienne came to find them.

“Bijou’s gone!” she said, wringing her robe sleeves in distress. “I need you to help look for her!”

Dwyer was up first. “Easy, Ettie. She’s a smart cat.”

“Kneazle,” Filbin corrected. “Is Lowell looking already?”

She nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been all through our dorms and everything there.” She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “If someone took her, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

Dwyer gave her a quick hug. “We’re gonna help. Promise. Come on, everybody.”

“She’s probably in one of the common rooms,” Ettie said, hurrying with them t the door. “I’ve heard she’s been in each of them at least once.”

“Then we can start there,” Filbin said. “I’ll go check the library to get a Ravenclaw to help.”

They split up, Ettie going with Dwyer up to Gryffindor tower.

Just as they reached the Pink Lady’s portrait, Rose Weasley was coming out.

Bijou, from behind Ettie and Dwyer, dashed inside.

“Bijou!” Ettie gasped, both relieved and concerned when they realized Professor Longbottom was chasing her. “Hey! Wait!”

Dwyer held her back. “I’ll figure out what’s going on. Stay here.” He hurried inside.

The Pink Lady thoroughly disapproved of the ruckus. “I demand more respect! I am not some common revolving door!”

Moments after, Dwyer went in, McNeil marched up the hall. “Move aside,” he told the girls.

He gave the password and went in.

Rose looked up at Etienne. “What’s happening?”

“No idea,” she replied, holding the younger girl with her out of the way.

After a tense couple of minutes, McNeil emerged, hand clamped around Julian Strange’s arm. “March, boyo,” he growled. “We’ll see what the Headmistress has t’say about this.”

Dwyer came out next, followed by Professor Longbottom, holding a very satisfied Bijou.

The professor handed her back to Etienne. “You have a very good girl, there,” he smiled. “I thought she knocked over my inkwell to be a pain, but turns out she knew the egg thief.”

Etienne petted Bijou, stunned. “Him?”

Dwyer was grinning. “You should’ve seen it! She had him cornered, hissing and biting anytime he tried to move. Professor figured something was up when Julian took a swing at her. He had Julian held up with his wand even before McNeil came in.”

“He’d planned to sell the egg,” the professor explained. “McNeil and his searchers caught the buyer lurking in the woods and he gave up the whole deal. If Bijou hadn’t been so quick, Strange might have legged it.”

Ettie frowned, confused. “He’d have run? But… why? Wouldn’t that have showed he was guilty?”

“Julian’s a lot of things,” Dwyer said, “but he’s not the smartest in a crisis.”

They headed back to catch up with the others, but before they parted ways with the professor, Etienne had one more question. “So, what’ll happen to Strange?”

“He’ll probably get a week of full detention – no class time and labor around the castle. That’s up to the Headmistress. If the sale had gone through, or if the chick was hurt, and we found out his involvement, he’d have likely been expelled with formal charges.” He gave Bijou a tickle, smiling. “Thankfully things are taken care of for now. Just be prepared for your clever little kneazle to be a castle celebrity for awhile! At least until the other two chicks hatch and take over as most popular pet in school.”

Bijou purred, and kept purring through her extra special dinner and cuddle time reward with Etienne and her friends.

 


	14. A Little Country Christmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archambeau Chateau - Christmas 2019
> 
> Draco Malfoy's new friends do what they can to pull him from a low holiday funk.

Christmas morning with the Archambeau family was one of the finest Lowell ever had. He opened a handful of thoughtful gifts alongside Etienne and the Archambeau’s other holiday guests – Scorpius Malfoy and his father.

Draco Malfoy received a small package from Mr. Archambeau, which turned out to be an old book. “Fernand,” he said, “you didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did! You enjoy it so much, it ought to be yours! Of course, I’d like your help decorating for the party,” Fernand said, setting down his coffee. “We could let the elves do it, but it’s tradition.”

While the two men picked their way through the minefield of wrappings, Mrs. Sylviane Archambeau beckoned Lowell over. 

“Come! Show me how the robes fit,” she said, beaming with the joy of seeing the children happy, even as teens. “Scorpius, dear, you too.”

Lowell held up his incredibly fine dress robes to his shoulders, looking down at Scorpius’ new outfit too. “They suit you. Blue’s good on you.”

“Yeah?” the younger boy said, struggling to see while still keeping the shoulders up. “It’s real festive!”

“Of course it is,” Sylviane laughed. “It’s Christmas! And you’ll have good use of them tonight. I’ve received a mountain of RSVPs! The owls have been arriving near nonstop all week. And we have them for 12 th night too! We’ll be marvelously busy with all this merrymaking.”

She pushed and pulled and prodded to get an idea of how the boys would look. “This will be wonderful. When you dress for the party, see me and we’ll fit them perfectly. I never trust any robe before it’s been charm-fitted. You’ll be handsome heartbreakers for sure!”

She stood and gave them both kisses on their cheeks. “Go on and put your things away. Then come right back down. We’ve got so much to do!” She shooed Etienne as well. “Same for you, dear! Quickly!”

Scorpius joined them going to the bedrooms. “Albus is coming, right? Will he have to be all fancy too?”

“Well, sure,” Etienne said. “Everyone’s dressing up.”

“Good. Doing stupid stuff isn’t as stupid with friends.”

Lowell laughed. “Well put. And… do you mind if I asked your help with these?” He held up the new robes. “I’ve never had something so fancy.”

He looked flattered. “Sure. They’re not all as fussy as they look.”

*** 

Just before the party, a flurry of house elves in smocks bearing the Archambeau crest, and under the direction of the militant housekeeper, swept the ballroom and the hall. They paid particular attention to a fireplace so large it dwarfed Lowell’s bedroom back home.

By the time he and Scorpius entered the hall, guests were apparating in and the fireplace was a full-on Floo Powder portal.

“Hey Lowell!” Chris called, waving up the stairs at him.

His heart paused in a way that worried him, but it pounded right back with a vengeance.

He stood with her parents and older sister, all of them in festive formals. Chris’ curls were tamed with two sturdy pins of silver holly, her short, bright red dress trimmed with white fur and puffed out wide with featherlight petticoats. 

“Wow, you clean up nice!” she said, when he made it down. “So do you, Scorpius! Is that new?”

He nodded. “Yeah! Hey, is Albus here yet?”

“Sorry, no. But tons of people are showing up every minute,” she said, and he hurried to watch the kids traveling in by floo.

“He and his father are staying the holidays here too,” Lowell explained. “I’m glad he’s excited. It’s been tough on him. Y’know, since” –

Chris shook her head. “I can’t even imagine losing a mom. I don’t want to. How’s he doing?”

“Well,” he assured her. “All things considered. Come on, let’s go see if Dwyer’s here yet.”

“I wish Toff didn’t have a family party. It’d be nice to have him here.”

*** 

Sylviane practically skipped from couple to couple, greeting the children – old and young – with little gold trinkets to be used for a raffle later on.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs! How wonderful to meet you. Welcome! Our Etienne has told us so much about your girl. Oh! Is this your oldest? Charming! Absolutely charming.

“Lizbeth! What a pleasure to see you again! And Filbin, you’re taller now than when I last saw you. Here, this is for a drawing later. Ettie’s with Charisma and Lowell by the buffet. They’ve been waiting for you. Hurry now!”

A sudden flurry of pops announced the arrival of a group and the guests parted for the unfamiliar faces. Just a moment later, the floo flashed and two more arrived in matching austerity – except for the 12 year old who looked like a little snowflake princess.

Sylviane wouldn’t stand for awkwardness. She greeted the older couple with a warm smile. “You must be the Brandts. Welcome! I’m Sylviane Archambeau. My daughter thinks the world of your little Elfleda!”

The man’s thickly bearded face immediately softened into a rough but pleasant smile. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, his accent strong but dignified. As he introduced his Russian wife, his sons (two of them accompanied by their wives), the other guests resumed mingling. “And this,” he told Sylviane is my youngest son. Ulrich!”

The handsome 16 year old looked more like he was 19 or 20, but he smiled kindly before snapping his heels back in a small smart bow. 

“He is on the dueling team for Durmstrang,” his father said proudly. “And finally” – he called Elfie over in his native German, scooping the petite 12 year old up as if she weighed nothing – “this is our Elfleda! Thank the good lady, Elfie.”

She smiled at their hostess. “Thank you for inviting us! I’m so excited!”

Sylviane was almost sure she’d grow dizzy from the cuteness. “Anytime, my darling. Here!” She gave both Elfie and Ulrich raffle trinkets. “Keep those for games later. Elfie, you’ll find your friends across the hall.”

Sylviane sighed, tickled at them. “Oh they’re precious. I’d love for you to meet my husband, if you’d like?”

Mr. Brandt nodded. “Please!”

*** 

The Connollys arrived and both Gwen and Dwyer stayed close at first. “No, no I’ll keep my coat, thank you,” Mrs. Connolly said, hugging her fur close while her husband thanked the elf and assured them everything was fine.

“See, mum? That’s Etienne with Lowell and Filbin and everybody,” Gwen said, smiling.

“They look like very nice friends,” she replied, nervous.

Her husband held her hand. “Look, see? There’s Charlie’s brothers. Been awhile since we’ve seen George, right? Even Percy came.”

She nodded, still nervous. “There are a lot of people here. My, what fine robes…”

Gwen hugged her mother’s arm. “It’s alright. Really.”

Dwyer spotted a couple a bit into the crowd and stared. He tugged his dad’s sleeve. “Oh wow! Look! Looooook! That’s Mr. Potter!

Gwen perked up. “Oh! Did his wife come too?!”

Their father shook his head and pinched them both to bring them back to Earth. “I didn’t raise you two to oogle people like that. They’re no more than a couple of people here to enjoy the party. Isn’t your friend James their son? You don’t act ridiculous over him.”

Dwyer made a face. “Yeah, cuz I know how bad his socks smell, and that he bites his nails, and he’s a stuck-up pain in my” –

“Hey Dwyer!”

He clammed up and put on his best smile, “Heeeeey, James!”

“You get your raffle things yet?” he asked. “Come on, we’ll get them. They’ve got a gold egg as big as us that’ll hatch at midnight for the winner. Don’t want to miss out on prizes!”

Further into the crowd, Harry sipped his drink. “You see him over there? Friends with the hosts…” He tsked and shook his head. “Typical of him.”

Ginny frowned at him. “Don’t ruin a perfectly nice party for the kids. The man’s wife died, he needs all the support he can get.”

Across the room, Fernand put his hand over Draco’s drink glass, concerned about the rate he was setting. “Don’t let him ruin a pleasant evening, my friend,” he said gently. “Look at your boy? He isn’t bothered in the least.”

Scorpius and Albus stood in the floo, dashing out when it crackled in anticipation of a new arrival. They’d race out each time just ahead of the travelers, laughing uproariously.

Fernand chuckled. “Let them have their fun.” He took Draco’s now neglected glass from him and set it aside. “There are plenty of better things to do than lurk in a corner.”

Draco snorted, mock offended. “Lurking is one of my strongest skills, Fernand. You insult me.”

Fernand laughed freely at that. “And my wife is determined to cure the both of us of it.”

Draco looked over the crowd. “Fine. Well, we can go ask Percy how his Australia deal is working out?”

“I told Sylviane no business tonight,” Fernand replied, following.

“Don’t push me. I need to take small steps.”

***  

Once the buffet opened, the band arrived and the ballroom filled.

Garlands of silver and gold hung in intricate patterns, each corner of the ceiling filled with clusters of icy bubbles that occasionally floated down – to the delight of the younger kids.

Lily and Hugo each claimed one and carried them around from table to table to visit with cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends.

“Your home is lovely,” Mrs. Connolly said, sitting with Sylviane. “And you’re so well-connected! You have so much of the Ministry represented here. Aren’t those the Minister’s children?”

Sylviane looked over to watch Hugo and Rose. “Hm? Oh, yes, but they’re friends of my girl. They came with family.” She giggled nervously. “Could you imagine the Minister herself coming to my little country party?” She laughed, flushed at the very idea. “We’re still so very new here. I’m just tickled at the turn-out, really!”

Mrs. Connolly thought of her family’s centuries old fishing village, poor since it’s first founders. She patted Sylviane’s hand and gave her the best compliment she had. “You are one of the most gracious hostesses I have ever met. I’m not one for traveling so far from home, but you are so warm.”

Sylviane beamed and held her hand. “Oh! Oh, that is the sweetest thing I have ever heard!” Being a woman of abundant affection, she immediately hugged Mrs. Connolly who was at once both flushed, surprised, and slightly squished.

The orchestra played for the dancers in the ballroom. The Archeambeaus heartily believed in the social power of dancing. Those who didn’t know the steps for the dances from the past few hundred years (they did like to keep things modern) were treated to a primer by either Fernand or Sylviane and any other experienced dancer they could encourage to help them. Before long, the teens had the steps down and participated in the quadrille, waltz, lanciers, and any reels needed to liven up the crowd.

It took time, but Fernand eventually convinced Draco to join in. “The Laendler is coming up. You’re marvelous at it.”

He frowned, wary since the Potters took the floor several dances in. “You need a partner for that. Are you offering Sylviane?”

“Heavens no, man, you’d steal her away from me after one turn,” Fernand said quickly, knowing his friend always received compliments well.

It did get a smile. “Wise. Still, as I said, one doesn’t dance without a partner.”

Fernand scanned the crowd. “There. Mrs. Van der Venne is without a partner as well. She’ll do a turn with you.”

“She’s old enough to be my mother,” Draco replied, watching the pleasant widow explain the dance to Lowell and encourage him to ask Chris to dance with him.

“But she dances a very very good Laendler,” he countered.

Draco considered it, sold already but giving his friend a bit of suspense by apparently giving it careful thought. “Fine. One turn.”

Fernand clapped once, he was so overcome with success. “Wonderful! Sylviane!” He hurried to find his wife to join in too. 

The couples lined up and the pleasant little tune played. The dancers stepped carefully, turning and holding with the music. 

After one hold, mid-turn, Ginny tapped Mrs. Van der Venne’s shoulder and cut in to finish the dance with a very surprised and highly uncomfortable Draco. It was poor form to stop mid-turn, so he tried to be as aloof as possible and not cause offense.

“I’m sorry for Harry,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear. “And I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He swallowed hard, trying not to think how much Astoria loved to dance. “Thank you. Your husband has every right to keep his distance, however.”

“He has his right to be an ass too,” she said bluntly. “He doesn’t let go of things easily.”

Draco stole a glance to the crowd and immediately met with Harry’s furious glare. “I’m afraid he won’t let go of this one either.” Propriety aside, he gently slipped them both out of the line of dancers and bowed to her. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I have to excuse myself. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter.” He didn’t wait for a reply and walked straight through the surprised crowd to the private rooms.

Fernand and Sylviane watched in dismay, though as host and hostess they stayed with the dancers. “He’ll be a bear to get out again,” Fernand lamented.

“Give him some of the fire whiskey, that might help. At least he’s not a mean drunk, but that might be all we can do,” she replied. “Don’t miss this step, dear.”

Fernand did get Draco back out, and it did take a bit of liquid persuasion, but not as much as he anticipated. He gave up hope of getting his friend back in the ballroom, though.

Sylviane mingled in the hall with her guests, attempting to soothe a couple’s spat between the Potters. She thanked the stars it was nothing serious – from what the other guests said, it was relatively typical of them.

All those in the front hall looked up at the pop that announced a couple of late arrivals.

Sylviane paled, but Harry brightened up immediately.

“Ron! You made it!”

Draco grimaced from his place in the corner and attempted to sit lower in his chair while the good friends greeted one another. “I may need another whiskey,” he said, sitting so he faced away from the Minister of Magic and her husband. 

Fernand kept an eye on the new guests, mostly to watch his wife flutter and fawn at the honor of their attendance, but also to see if he needed to get his best friend out of the room. “It’s been over a decade,” he said gently. “Not to cheapen what happened, of course, but the world has moved on. Thank merlin it doesn’t stop when people make mistakes in life…”

“It does for some,” he replied, taking the glass a serving elf offered. “Thank you.”

Fernand caught his arm. “If you bolt that back, I will personally escort you to the back of the house and hex you,” he hissed. “I will NOT see you punish yourself over other people’s inability to forgive!”

Draco stared at him in surprise. “You - … what?”

“Also, the minister is headed this way.”

“Shit.”

Hermione was no fool and greeted Fernand first. “Mr. Archambeau. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re new in the area, aren’t you?”

He stood and shook the hand she offered. “Yes, it’s only our second year here. I saw you met my wife. Forgive my not getting up right away. I” –

She touched his arm confidentially. “I understand.” She looked down at Draco who fiddled uncomfortably with his still-full glass. “May I sit down?”

Put on the spot, he sat up and cleared his throat. He waved his hand and the chair next to him pulled out for her. “Please.”

Fernand excused himself, but didn’t go too far away.

Draco wasn’t sure what to say, and it was even more difficult to meet her eyes. “Congratulations on” –

“No,” she said. “Stop. Please.” She returned his trick, turning his chair so he faced her directly. She took each of his hands in hers. “Draco. Look at me.”

He did, hesitantly, and was surprised and worried to see her expression was open and sincere. 

“I am so sorry for your loss,” she said, giving his hands a warm squeeze. “Really. We were at the funeral…”

He swallowed hard, wishing he’d bolted the drink and let Fernand hex him. “It… Yes. I’m afraid I don’t remember much of who was there. It was tough getting there myself. I’m sorry if I” –

She shook her head. “That doesn’t require an apology. How’s Scorpius?”

“Enjoying the party in the ballroom,” he replied. “First time I’ve seen him so happy all year. He’s leaving Rose alone, I’ve made sure to tell him not to” –

“Let Rose take care of herself.” Hermione smiled. “Ron’s sticky on the subject, but I know my girl. She won’t have anything to do with anyone she doesn’t like. I’m glad to hear he’s doing better, though.” She looked over to where Harry and Ron were talking and then back to him. “Look… I don’t expect us all to be the best of friends, but,” she paused, “you’re not the little boy I punched way back when. And you’re not the person that hurt us in the war. Not anymore. I’d like to help fix this, as far as it can be fixed.”

Draco struggled to believe what he was hearing, but he heard his own reply like it was someone else. “I’d like that.”

She nodded. “Tonight might be a bit too soon for it, but I’d like to keep in touch for now. Expect a Christmas card this week from me and Ron.” She stood up and gave his hands another squeeze before letting him go. “How’s the dancing been?”

“Not bad,” he said, feeling a tightness leave his shoulders and wondering how long it’d been there. “Fernand and Sylviane throw excellent parties.”

She smiled. “Good! Then I’m sure we’ll see you at more. Excuse me, I think I hear my husband talking business at Christmas. Enjoy yourself, Draco.”

He stood and bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Grang- … Minister.”

She patted his arm and left back into the crowd to break up a playful shouting match between Ron and George. 

Fernand stood next to his friend. “Wow. I know it’s terrible manners to eavesdrop, but… wow.”

“I’m going to need that whiskey now.”

Fernand nodded. “I’ll join you, if only to make it a proper toast.”


	15. More Than Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter Break 2019-20
> 
> Friends visit and a tall, handsome visitor sweeps Gwen off her feet.

Dancing was in full swing. Dwyer kept his eye on Etienne, even though he and Gwen were learning on of the choreographed quadrilles.

“I need a break,” Gwen said. “Go ask Ettie to be your partner. She knows all the steps.”

“But I don’t,” he said. “I’ve made an idiot of myself in front of her enough already tonight.”

“Then ask Chris,” Gwen shrugged, already leaving the crowd.

“And have Lowell hover behind me the whole time? Thanks, no.”

Gwen pushed him away. “Then don’t dance! It’s almost midnight. I don’t know when mum and dad will want to go home, so I wouldn’t waste the chance if I were you!”

He hesitated once more, but finally set out toward Etienne between songs.

She watched him stumble over asking, and watched Etienne be thoroughly confused, before they both joined the next dance together. She barely had a chance to smile over Elfie and her father dancing when she realized someone else was standing close by.

Very close by.

Gwen stiffened nervously and tried to edge away, but she bumped into a large urn filled to overflowing with charmed silver and gold flowers.

The boy beside her caught and held it before it fell, as startled by it as her. He smiled at her nervously. “That is not the way to wear flowers,” he chuckled, his accent thick and Germanic. 

With the vase stable, he bowed slightly. “I am Ulrich Brandt,” he said, then after a pause, “Elfie’s brother.”

Gwen blushed clear down to her toes. She curtsied. “Gwendolyn Connolly.” She went blank on what to say next, caught staring up at him.

He stared right back, gripping the edge of his cloak. He realized it first and his smile brightened a little. He held up a finger, telling her to wait.

She watched him pick a gold bloom from the arrangement.

“May I?”

It didn’t occur to her to ask what he meant before agreeing. She nodded and blushed hard when he tucked the flower very carefully in her hair.

At the same moment, one of Ulrich’s brothers called to him and Gwen’s  head approached.

“Gwen! Where’s your brother? It’s time we went home.” He looked at the flower. “Pretty. Did you borrow that off a friend?”

When she looked back to introduce Ulrich, no one was there. He was further in the crowd, pinned by his brother’s arm around his shoulders. “Oh…”

Dwyer hurried over now the dance was done. “Hey, Da! Gwen, why’re you all red? Never mind. Hey, Da, Etienne and Filbin want to get together between now and the 12 th Night dance. Kind of round-robin visiting. Can we have friends over this week?”

Mr. Connolly threw his hands up. “Ask your mother. What do I know about it? We’re going home now the raffle’s over, so get your things.”

“It’s over?” Gwen said. “Aw we missed it. Who won?”

“Mr. Potter’s youngest,” he said. “Come on, then, your mother’s waiting.”

*** 

That next Friday, the Connollys and Filbin arrived to Chris’ house first. It was a comfy place, always full of good smells and clocks chiming at odd times. 

While the boys conspired how to make the break fun, Gwen hooked arms with Chris with their feet up by a crackling fire.

“He was amazing,” she sighed, smiling. “I can’t get him out of my head! You saw him, right? So, what did you think of him?”

Chris thought about it. “I honestly don’t know. I told him where the bathroom was once…?How long did you talk to him for?”

Gwen shrugged. “Not long. Dad rushed us off right after. But that doesn’t matter. I know he’s different!”

“When will you see him again?” she asked, trying to find some frayed thread of hope in Gwen’s fantasy. “Did he say? Do you know? I mean… he goes to Durmstrang.”

“No, I don’t,” Gwen admitted. “But I can ask Elfie?”

The fireplace popped and glowed green. Etienne and Lowell appeared in a puff of smoke.

“Heeeeey!” Chris smiled and waved. “Have a sit! Scorpius coming?”

“No, his dad is taking him shopping. He may come another day.”

Gwen brightened up. “Oh! Lowell! What did you think of Elfie’s brother?”

He paused. “She has three… which one?”

“The good looking one,” Chris hinted.

He looked at her, shook his head, and answered Gwen. “You mean Ulrich. Nice guy. He duels. We talked shop a little between dances.”

“That doesn’t help the girl talk at all, Lowell,” Chris sighed. “What you need to tell us is” –

Filbin and Dwyer bounded in, excited. “Who wants to do games?!”

“And not like dorky games, but good ones.”

Filbin clapped Lowell on the shoulder. “Hey! ‘Bout time you showed up.”

The fire popped again, several times. Toff and Bets hopped out, with Elfie and her escort right behind.

Toff coughed from the smoke. “Happy Christmas, everybody. How was the party?”

Gwen stayed rooted in her seat, blushing all over again.

Ulrich, clearly Elfie’s caretaker, brushed soot off his sister’s coat. “You will track it all over the house,” he said.

“Happy Christmas, Gwen!” Elfie called, fairly bouncing on her toes in excitement. “Oh, Bets! Wait till you hear about the party. It was great!”

While the friends caught up and the boys worked out a tournament of games to play through the next several days, Ulrich and Gwen looked at each other, a bit at a loss what to say.

“Good morning, Miss Connolly,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Yeah,” she beamed, “me too. But, I mean, about you.”

He realized there were others present and quickly tried to make up for it. “Hello again, Miss Dobbs. I hope you don’t mind my tagging along. Father didn’t want Elfie to come alone.”

Chris shook her head. “No. Call me Chris like everybody else. If you’re sticking around, you ought to join in. Looks like we’ll be playing MY favorite game today.” She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “Hope you’re feeling lucky! It’ll be Everyflavor Bean Roulette for us!”

“Elfie, you’ll be the referee,” Toff said. “You know all of what they are, so it wouldn’t be fair if you played.”

“We’ve got our names in a hat,” Filbin passed it around. “The name you pull first is your opponent.”

“And the first person to get a bum bean is out!” Dwyer grinned, pulling a name. “For the next round we leave out the losers. And we’ll go around a few times.”

Chris sorted out piles of same-color beans for each pair.

She sat down with Ettie for their first round.

“So toffee or earwax?”

“Yup,” Chris sat down eagerly, but as much as she loved Everyflavor Beans, she needed Ettie’s attention more for Gwen’s problem. “So, what do you think of Gwen with Ulrich?”

“She sent me three pages yesterday on her not knowing if he really liked her or if he was just being nice.” She shuffled the candies around. “Can’t you tell the difference?”

“No, they’re identical. I’ll go first if you don’t want to. There may not be a bum in there at all.” She took the first one. “Nope, it’s toffee. So you saw them right? I don’t want her to be disappointed.”

“Nobody does,” Ettie said, watching Bets and Ulrich tackle their handful of cut grass and watermelon beans.

While she watched, Bets ate her third bean and made a face.

Ulrich chuckled. “Here, have my water. Are you alright?”

Ettie turned back to Chris who handed her a bean. “He does seem nice. Should we help?”

“If we can,” Chris agreed.

Etienne gagged and spat the bean out in a rage. “Ewww!”

“Y’know, somebody told me once Dumbledore liked the earwax ones.”

“Well, he must have been batty,” Ettie said, wiping her mouth.

After a couple of rounds, with mingling, hot cocoa, and gingersnaps in between, the face-off came down to Filbin and Gwen.

Filbin rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingers for luck. “Ready?”

Chris dished out a pile of black beans. “These ones are either licorice or tar.”

Gwen shuddered. “Ew… I don’t even like licorice! Do I have to swallow?”

“You can just lick them?” Ulrich suggested.

The friends of the audience deliberated.

“Ok,” Dwyer said, “you don’t have to chew, but it’s only fair you at least pop the whole bean in your mouth before spitting it out. Deal?”

Gwen nodded.

The beans flew fast and thick, Gwen spitting licorice after licorice into a bin by her feet.

Filbin munched them happily until they got to where Chris dug through a massive jar from her personal stash to keep them supplied. “Suppose we run out of black ones?”

“ Bogey and lime may be a good replacement?” Lowell said, but they never needed it.

Filbin dry heaved into Gwen’s bucket, spitting and sputtering.

Gwen stared, then cheered. “I WON!”

Filbin scrubbed his tongue with kerchief. “I have never got tar before. Nasty!”

Toff scribbled down their names and put a tally by Gwen’s. “We can come to my house next,” he said, tucking the score card away.

Ulrich got up. “Come Elfie, we said we would be home for dinner.”

“You can stay,” Chris said. “We’re having mum’s best meat pies?”

That did make him pause. “Ooooh… That does sound good… but our father was very clear.”

Elfie joined him at the fireplace. “We’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

“Bring your thinking caps,” Dwyer said before they left. “He picked Chess!”

*** 

The day at the McCauley’s was more relaxed. By unanimous vote, they chose their own partners.

Etienne read a book in between her move and Dwyer’s, as he took so long staring at the board.

Toff sat fascinated by Elfie’s moves, more interested in how her claircognizance affected her style.

Bets saw to the tea while Filbin took every piece possible just to see how the pieces went about smashing one another.

Lowell listened to Chris chatter while they played.

Ulrich asked Gwen over to a set by a bay window. It became clear quickly, she didn’t play much.

“You’re very good,” she said, sheepish. “My mother and father play, but I’ve been better with cards or backgammon.”

“I like backgammon,” he said, sweeping bits of her bishop clear of the board. He cleared his throat and looked up to meet her eyes. “What else do you like to do?”

She thought he had the softest, warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. “Oh, I, um,” she thought hard what to say that wouldn’t be awkward. “I like to collect shells?”

He sat back comfortably. “Tell me. You must find very nice ones?”

She glowed with the pleasure of his interest. “I’ve found some wonderful ones! We swim far and deep, and beach shells can’t hold a candle to some of the ones we’ve seen! Oh! I have a nautilus shell as big as this board!”

He sat up. “The ones that go” – he made a swirl with one finger in the air – “and the face that has the little” – he struggled with the word and instead held both hands up to his chin so his fingers were the tentacles.

She laughed. “Yes, that’s the one! Do you go to the ocean much?”

“Durmstrang is by a large fjord,” he said. “Lots of ice.” He smiled. “In the early spring when the ice is just thinning, we can see narwhal swimming. They sometimes have the little babies too.” He chuckled. “Baby tusks.”

“Oo!” Gwen cooed. “Wow! Do you see any seals there?”

She was surprised to see him blush a little before answering.

“Yes, we see many seals,” he said. “More when it warms some… but I think I like the… seals… here better.”

It was her turn to blush.

He chuckled. “They are kinder, and much more beautiful.”

From across the room, where Dwyer finally made a move open enough for Ettie to checkmate, he looked up and saw Gwen’s face. 

Ettie looked and then settled again. “Looks like flirting to me. Sit down, Dwy. Have some chocolate.”

“We’ll see about this,” he grumbled, keeping an eye on them the rest of the afternoon.

*** 

Visiting family and a couple bouts of winter colds canceled any further tournament of games until they were all free/well again.

The Connollys volunteered to host.

“They know to come for lunch, don’t they?” their mother asked, taking fresh nettle bread from the oven.

“We told them,” Gwen assured her, setting down the groceries she just collected from the market. She looked over the spread. “I don’t know that we’ll need this much.”

“If your brother’s friends eat like he does, we will.” Mrs. Connolly took off her apron. “Go on to the fire and wait so there’s someone to greet them. I’ll make up the table.”

With curtains drawn, Mrs. Connolly happily muttered her to-do list to herself – in detail so the utensils and flatware knew precisely what to do as they laid themselves out, chopped fresh vegetable snacks, laid out a homey cheeseboard, and twizzled the fresh lump of butter into attractive forms.

She oversaw the group as they later enjoyed the lunch spread with as much pleasure as she had making it.

At the end of the meal, Lowell patted his belly. “That was amazing, Mrs. Connolly!”

“Aren’t you sweet! Here, have another slice of bread. Would you like jam? Or a bit more fish? Why don’t I get one of each for you! What about you, Filbin?”

“Thanks no, I’m full,” he replied. “But Ulrich may still be puckish?”

“Fish, please,” Ulrich nodded, and munched it when Dwyer stood up.

“We’re all stuffed, so a walk will do us good!” he said. “Me and Da set a bunch of flags around town and down the coast and our game is collecting as many of the flags as possible before they ring 5 on the church bell!”

“On our own?” Bets asked, nervous.

“In teams of two, I think,” Dwyer amended. “I know where they’re at so I’ll be referee.”

“And me?” Elfie asked.

“There’s gobs of them out there, as long as your partner does the collecting, I think it’s fine,” he said. “Any objections?” Dwyer saw his dad standing in the doorway. “Da?”

“Just a reminder,” he said seriously. “Absolutely no magic. Be safe on the coast. If you fall, use whatever means necessary to keep yourself safe, but you’re still underage. Anything happens, we’ll have a report to file and claims to make. Please be careful around the cliffs. Promise?”

They nodded and quietly agreed.

“Good. So have fun, just don’t be stupid,” he smiled. “That’s all.”

They divided into teams.

Dwyer counted on Filbin to pair up with Gwen, but Ulrich beat him to it.

“Sorry, Dwy,” Filbin whispered, paired up with Elfie. He sat by her for lunch, I didn’t have a shot. You can keep an eye on them as ref, though?”

Elfie, with Filbin, cocked her head. “Don’t you like Ulrich?” she asked. “He sure likes Gwen…”

“Here’s the thing about older brothers, Elfie,” Dwyer said, with his teacher voice on, “no boy is good enough for their little sisters!”

“But you’re twins,” she said. “You’re not older…”

“Isn’t she older than you by a few minutes?”

“BROTHERS okay?! All brothers! Not just older ones, I shouldn’t have said it like that!” Dwyer threw his arms up in frustration. “I’m just worried is all, alright? That’s all!”

Elfie, confused, patted his arm. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can be confused.”

Filbin left with her to start their search, after Gwen and Ulrich who’d already left.

Dwyer, huffy, was surprised Etienne joined him in the corner.

“You alright?” she asked.

“No,” he snorted. “Elfie’s bull of a brother is after Gwen! And no one seems the least bit bothered!”

“You are,” she said, hooking her arm in his.

His attention began to shift. “Well… yeah!” He paused, very warm from her standing so close. He looked at her with a little uncertainty. “Aren’t you? Bothered by it?”

She smiled at him, voice low like a purr. “Not particularly. She seems pretty pleased with it.” She stroked his arm. “Bets and I can keep an eye on them for you? So you’re not the bad guy in this?”

“Yeah?” he brightened up.

“Of course, we don’t have much time for hunting,” she pondered aloud. “We’d be less suspicious with a few flags to pick up along the way…?”

He frowned. “You want hints?”

She daintily kissed his cheek and he went as red as his scarf. “One of those for every flag?”

He pulled his arm back, but only so he could take her hand. “Just for flags?”

That made her blush a little. “If I didn’t want to give them, I’d offer you something else, like chocolate, candy, or firecrackers. Is it a deal or not?”

He checked no one was listening, though only his dad was left at the table and Bets was asking his mom about her cooking. He softly kissed her cheek. “I’ll take the deal, but one little snog gets you the whole bloody map!”

Gwen took Ulrich to the cliffs and shore first, pointing out the landmarks as they went.

“It is very pretty country here,” he said. “So green! Even in January!”

It looked awfully grey to Gwen but imagining a snowed in town in the north made her home green by comparison. “Yeah, I guess so. Look!” She pointed to flags stretching along the shore below. “There’s a way down at the end over there, let’s get all these!”

While they picked the markers off the crags and occasional scrubby bush, Gwen happily answered his questions about living there – at least until she worried she was talking too much.

“Lowell says you duel?” she half-asked, as they reached the end of the cliff.

A rickety stairwell of driftwood led down to the stony beach below. Ulrich stepped down and reached back to offer his arm and help her down with him.

“Yes,” he said. “I liked talking to him about it.” He smiled. “Lowell’s father is a very famous duelist. I’ve seen his matches… before he retired.”

“But what about you? Oop!” her foot slipped on a worn step.

He caught her easily. “Put your hands on my shoulders. You will not fall that way.”

He carefully led her down, both of them enjoying the touch.

Gwen liked it so much, when they got to the bottom she let go just long enough to put her hand on his. “Thanks! Now go on, you were going to tell me about dueling?”

He chuckled. “My brothers play quidditch. Since headmaster Krum, the program is better, but I prefer dueling. I can use spells you lean but never get to use outside the classrooms.” He thought a moment while watching her collect another marker. “It is… creative too. In a duel you think fast. Quickly.”

“Isn’t it scary,” she asked, “with someone else firing at you?”

He chuckled. “It can be, I have been hurt before, but my brothers had more from Quidditch. I am good enough that dueling is safer.”

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want you getting hurt, especially if I’m around to” – she stopped suddenly, blushing.

“To what?” he asked, smiling a little.

“To help, I guess?” She blushed more as he stood closer.

“I would like very much to write to you,” he said, gently taking her hand again. “Say I may write you?”

“Of course you can, silly!” she giggled, her heart going very fast. “And I’ll be very happy to write you back. Okay?”

His hand warmed hers as he held it. “Then I would like very much to kiss you.” He rubbed her fingers with his thumb, softly whispering. “Say I may kiss you?”

She looked up at him, feeling lighter than air. “I wish you would!”

As he kissed her, and held her closer when he leaned into him, the wind kicked up and the ocean surged up, reaching past the tideline to only just touch their feet.

He continued to hold her, his hands on her waist. “Dance with me at the party? Before we have to leave?”

She beamed at him. “You can have any and as many dances as you want!”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.” He looked around and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Do you think we can find a shell I may take home?”

“Just you try and stop me!”

*** 

No one could quite figure how Etienne and Bets won the hunt since no one saw much of them out looking, but since they graciously conceded the win to Lowell and Chris in second place they shrugged the whole thing off.

Again decked in their finest formals, they gathered at the Archambeau home. It was decorated royally with a handsome 12 th Night Cake at the center of each table.

It was a masquerade, though by the end of the night the masks were off, shoes either off or eased from dancing, and both new friends and new couples were unhappy about parting.

Gwen stood by the floo for a long while after Ulrich left.

“Ready to go, dear?” her mother asked.

“Yes,” she said, more numb than sad. “How soon should I expect an owl if it comes from Durmstrang?”

Her mother smiled and kissed her hair, giving her a warm hug. “How about we go home and you can send him one – so he has something first day back?”

Gwen’s mood lifted immediately. “What a perfect idea! Dwy! When we get home, I need to borrow your ink, I’m out!”

“Should have bought some,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be sour, sweetie,” his mum said. “You’ll see Etienne tomorrow at the train.”


End file.
